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EBBA BORJESON 


A TRUE LOVE STORY OF THE OLDEN TlflE. 


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BY 


HAMPDEN VAUGHN. 

• -X 


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/c>yp 

As everything of price, so this doth require travail. — Hooker, 


- 7 ^ 



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X 

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COPYRIGHTED, 1894, 

BY J. J. SATTERTHWAIT. 




C08TA PRINT, WILMINGTON, DEL. 


EBBA BORJESON. 


CHAPTER I. 

It was a sunny afternoon in the early summer of i68i. 
The weather-worn dwelling, in the mellow soberness of its 
dusky red tone, was a very embodiment of repose, giving 
the sense of that breadth of home-spun content which 
more consults interior comfort than exterior elegance. 

The ancient structure overlooked a picturesque fjord in 
midland Sweden ; and the landscape possessed most 
of the features characterizing that region. The edifice 
stood upon a moderately elevated plateau within a natural 
amphitheatre which circled about the head of a small bay 
making in from the fjord, and terminated northwardly in a 
lofty natural tower of rounded rock, and southwardly in a 
grassy slope merging into a sandy point projecting into the 
water. 

In a large apartment of this quaint old mansion two 
women were seated this peaceful afternoon ; and, while 
the elder dreamily gazed upon the fair scene without, 
the other read aloud from a large volume which lay in her 
lap. 

“ Ah! it all comes back to me,” said the elder of the two 
ladies, “an ’twere yesterday.” 

” Of what speaks my grandma?” 

” O child, of that bloody, that glorious day !” 

” But what day in particular mean you then?” 

” The day of which ye now will read — the great day of 
Breitenfeld, that e’er memorable battle before Leipsic. 
Direful indeed it was, but gladsome withal ; for there 
gained your grandfather his guerdon of highest valor — 
there won he his coveted post yet nearer the person of 
great King Adolf, our second Gustav of blessed memory.” 

“But, grandma mine, was not he then with our king 
through all — shared not 'grandpa everywhere the glory and 
peril of our Swedish arms?” 


4 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Even so — everywhere did my husband share all with 
his king. But more did he on this field. Stern courage 
have always our Swedes ; not always the swift wit most to 
profit by it. Both had my Eric, God be praised ; and it 
was the timely word carried by him through perils un- 
speakable to our kingly general, blinded by smoke and 
dust, that gave the young hero the rank he craved and the 
wound he prized as well.” 

‘‘Was it indeed, then, so great a service?” 

“ Verih^ was it ; for what with the dust of long parched 
fields and the smoke of the battle, the high west wind did 
so afflict the eyes of our Swedish troops that they were 
well-nigh blinded to the woful trap set them by the crafty 
Tilly, that Austrian general of e’er watchful valor. Our 
commander, howe’er keen his scrutiny, could yet scarce 
divine whence might come his fatefullest blow. Then it 
was that as in a dizzy flash Eric caught sight of the enemy 
in hidden charge, and jvith quick thought and reckless dar- 
ing bore seasonable report to our general. Oh that 
moment of dread suspense ! The carnage was frightful. 
Eric crossed the hottest fire : he reeled ; he fell from his 
horse ; he — he ” The speaker paused. 

“Well, well, grandma, pray what then?” 

“ He was carried from the field.” Another pause. 

“What then — what then? O say on, grandma mine. 
’Tis far better to hear than to read of it.” 

“ Bless God m}^ Eric lived. And his purpose — yes, it 
was achieved. For though with gasping breath he yet 
uttered the one needed word, and then with all speed did 
Gustavus wheel his right wing further northward, and 
further happily from his uncertain Saxon allies, and did 
flank and sweep Tilly’s left like a storm, carrying all be- 
fore him; whereupon he flew to the support of our waver- 
ing Saxon left. And there on that day Count Tilly, till 
then the acknowledged victor in numberless battles with- 
out one defeat, was vanquished by our hero king of beau- 
tifullest soul and scourging might well-nigh divine.” 

With the excitement of her aroused memories the old 
lady had started to her feet and as she continued pacing 
the room fresh visions of an ever renewing past found un- 
conscious greeting in an occasional stamp of the foot or 
proud poise of the head. She was a tall stately dame of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


5 


seventy odd years, with the mien and glance of one ac- 
customed to command. Strong lines and a stern express- 
ion marked a broad upper face, from under whose pale 
forehead there looked a pair of hazel blue eyes, in which 
a kindly light contended with a quick steely glint which 
sometimes sharpened into fierceness. Under these the 
narrowing cheeks and a certain soft compression of thin, 
firm lips evidenced both the nervous force and tender re- 
pose which had long striven for the mastery. 

From her whole presence one imbibed a sense of silvery- 
ness, resulting alike from her crown of massy gray hair, 
the brightness of her glance, and the lustre and forceful 
repose of her proud, fine features. When in her teens she 
had married a young Swedish officer who threw himself 
with the force of an ardent nature into the service of his 
king, the young Gustavus Adolphus, and followed the 
fortunes of that great leader through the Thirty Years’ 
War. It was the history of that weary and exhausting 
struggle that the young girl was reading. It was from 
this ancestral home the aged listener had gone as the 
young officer’s bride; it was endeared to both ladies alike 
in gladdening outlook and inward experiences; and to its 
broader environment the reader’s attention is now in- 
vited. 

Much of Midland Sweden comprises a peculiar combi- 
nation of grove and meadow, of stony upland and isle- 
studded lake. Views of commingled woodland and water, 
of hashing waves and rocky headlands, of embowered 
islands and over-hanging boughs, with glimpses of hitting 
shade and sunny opening afford landscapes suggesting a 
vast mosaic of changeful nature. 

Of this ever-repeated picture the varied beauty aptly 
converges where the great Baltic fjord from without and 
many-isled Mselar from within join their waters at Stock- 
holm — the gentlest of nature’s nuptials sealed, as it were, 
with man’s brightest and fairest city. The scene is 
usually enlivened by hurrying steamer and garlanded 
pleasure boat, and under summer skies or the mellow 
tints of spring and autumn, seen in the sharpened glow 
of near outline or the purple softness of receding vista, 
the picture is a fadeless memory. 

But while this is true of the general vicinity of Stock- 


6 


Ebb a Borjcson, 


holm it is less applicable to a certain region lying directly 
south of that city, and touching its southern limits. 
With some of the same features, most of this many-sided 
part of Sodermanland is of quite different character. 
Shut in between Lake Mselar and the Baltic, and indented 
on all sides by their numberless fjords, the landscapes of 
this angular area are peculiarly its own. Nature in 
sterner mood holds it in harder grasp. Rimmed with 
rocky shores and guarded by outlying islands as if to 
resist the assaults of envious waters, it is for the most part 
locked in gloomy seclusion by dark dense forests chiefly 
of evergreen. Here huge masses of rock rounded by 
glacial action, towering abruptly from meadows and 
wooded levels, stand like grim citadels, from whose 
inaccessible summits tall pines, gnarled oaks and tangled 
underbush riot in wild profusion. Here lonely lakes 
hushed in sylvan isolation darkly mirror only their leafy 
prison walls and the limitless skies above. 

Without mountainous features, bordering upon the chief 
city of the peninsula, and resounding with the daily 
clatter of railroads, stolid nature, defying the fussy 
aggression of the age, here holds to this day much of 
her olden supremacy. In the wilder, darker past these 
craggy heights and forest depths must have kept grim 
company in weird silence and darksome awe supreme. 
Here was an ideal abode for pagan deity and stormy 
viking. Here was fixedness and rugged simplicity in 
nature and man, and only masterful time wrought 
miracles. Of superhuman workers no daintier artificer 
than old Thor, with his compelling hammer, ever fashioned 
fibre so tough or form so rigid. 

But a vaster might did here a kindlier work : for even 
as in the conflicts of the ages rugged rocks were 
rounded by glacial attrition and gracefully garnished 
with verdure, so in his sore buffetings the fierceness of 
the Northman was softened in the glow of his fireside, 
and the sanctities of home evoked Tenderness as the 
handmaid of his one idol. Valor. 

It was from the bold easterly shore of the fjord bound- 
ing this weird region on the northwest, that the desig- 
nated mansion peered out from its sheltered semi-circle. 
From its rusty casements looking west and south the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


7 


narrowing fjord lay in partial view under the gnarled 
limbs of some interlocking oaks. Between the trunks of 
taller pines lower down the tender green of many wooded 
islets smiled under a calmly glowing sun, and new life and 
color everywhere betokened the hastening on of the bright 
northern summer. 

It was upon this fair scene that the elder of the two 
women had absently gazed while the other read aloud 
from the historic volume that lay in her lap. Upon the 
familiar features without the old lady hurriedly cast her 
eyes as she now paced the room. Then, when the 
younger lady had finished he: reading of the battle of 
Breitenfeld, she turned from the book, and the two sat 
silently IcToking through the open windows. For many 
minutes neither spoke. The white light of the early 
afternoon had merged to a mellower glow, and the peace- 
ful scene courted reverie. 


CHAPTER II. 

“ ’Twas a great victory, truly,” said the younger lady at 
length in a musing tone — “a victory of good fortune, nie- 
thinks, scarce less than of good skill, but more than all, of 
dauntless courage, surely.” 

‘‘Of such come victory: to the brave cometh chance 
and oft safety, scarce less.” 

” But I ne’er knew before the valiant part grandpa bore 
in it. Now I see well how proud was that day for the 
young king and for our dear Sweden.” 

‘‘ Aye, for Germany, for Europe, for religious liberty as 
well ; and, God pardoning me, for your unworthy grand- 
mother.” 

‘ ‘Nay, worthy sharers all in worthy triumphs. To whom 
comes juster joy then to victors staking all upon a just 
cause?” 

‘‘So, indeed, I e’en tried to persuade myself: but my 
bliss as a young wife, my proud joy over the brave deed 
of my Eric I put above all: and mayhap I was e’en puffed 
up with pride unbeseeming.” 


8 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


“ That I see not, nor believe, my grandma.” 

“Listen, child ! More than I can e’er tell was that 
triumph at Breitenfeld. It broke the spell which had 
long held in terror our Protestant brethren on the Conti- 
nent. It revealed to them a deliverer more masterful 
than the dreaded Tilly and all those Popish persecutors 
erstwhile so resistless. It proved anew the valor of our 
Swedes against the best trained soldiers of Europe. It 
convinced friend and foe of the value of the young king’s 
new tactics, of those quick manoeuvres and lighter arms 
wherein old soldiers were loath to place faith.” 

“Yea ! yea !” she continued again leaving her seat as 
she warmed with the theme, “ in the face of a cold doubt- 
ing world which looked on with scant concern, *our great 
king at Breitenfield broke the combined forces of Rome 
and saved the Protestant cause and the rights of conscience 
against o’erwhelming odds. With all this achieved for 
Europe and the world, may a just God pardon me — alas! I 
was then but a child — if in my giddy exultation I could 
think of naught but the feat of my valiant husband on 
that field.” 

“If ’twere an offence so great ’twas surely pardonable. 
But grandpa’s wound. From that he did die, no?” 

“ Nay from that with God’s blessing he soon recovered, 
and God alone saw to the full depths of our young hearts 
bowed in gratitude. And if in such gratitude there crept 
the dross of vanity, in His mercy trust I, for in good sooth 
it seemed an o’er measure of earthly joy when on that 
September day I parted from my Eric to fame unknown in 
the morning, and received him a hero the same night.” 

‘ ‘ Morning and night ! What meaneth my grandma ?. 
’Twas far from Sweden surely : were you then with the 
army in Germany ?’ ’ 

“ Verily, my child. Have not I told you of the olden 
custom so far followed that the wives of officers and oft 
e’en of privates accompanied their husbands in their long 
campaigns?” 

“Of the embarkation and sad parting from friends 
spake grandma at last reading ; naught else.” 

“ Told I you of Adolphus' taking his little Christina in 
his kingly arms and with a broken voice beseeching the 
people’s fealty to the child as his successor, should he not 


Ebba Borjeson. 


9 


return? Ah, ne’er was scene so solemn, so touching! Well 
I remember all — the parting, the weary voyage, the land- 
ing on German soil which our king was the first to touch; 
and then the long hasty marches, the sack of Magdeburg, 
the seige of Nuremberg, our sufferings from hunger and 
thirst — how strange that while I recall little of recent hap- 
penings I so sharply realize afresh all that I saw so many, 
yea, as I bethink me, nigh unto fifty ^years ago. Ah me! 
time flies. But Ebba, my child, read on.” 

So bidden the reader continued. The narrative grew 
more absorbing as it approached the fateful day of Lutzen; 
and as with her own quickened interest the reader turned 
the leaves more rapidly she did not notice that the madam 
had withdrawn her outward gaze and bowed her head 
upon her folded arms; nor had the younger person heard 
the low moan with which the elder had responded to cer- 
tain passages of the history. 

” King Adolphus,” pursued the reader, ” took leave of 
his Queen at Erfurt — ” 

‘ ‘ Erfurt ! ’’ exclaimed the listener with a suppressed tre- 
mor in her voice. ” At Erfurt ? yes, it was at Erfurt too 
that I bade farewell to Eric. Oh, my foreboding heart 
that dark November day!” 

The reader laying aside the volume stole to her com- 
panion and pressed her hand softly upon her brow: 

” I read at present no more,” she said, ” ’tis not well for 
my grandma,” and stooping down she imprinted a kiss 
upon the venerable. forehead. 

” Nay, nay ! ” protested the old lady hastily wiping her 
eyes as she rose to her feet. “What, tears? bah! Til 
none of them. No weakling am I: and not so shall I 
honor the memory of the young hero who gave his life to 
his country. Girl ! I bid thee read on.” It was said with 
on imperious mien. 

‘‘But, my grandma dear, it pains — ” 

‘‘Nay, child, nay, dost hear me? Read!” and as the 
other hesitated the madam, standing proudly erect, pointed 
to the book and simply repeated, “Read.” 

The reading was resumed. The disposition of troops 
and the manoeuvres beginning the battle of Eutzen were 
duly detailed; and as the stirring movements of the con- 
tending armies quickened with interest, a fierce gleam 


lO 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


shone defiantly in the listener’s face, her eyes flamed with 
an exultant light, and at length a firm sweet calm settled 
upon her noble features. 

“ Upon their knees, ” she exclaimed, repeating the de- 
scriptive opening of the struggle. “Aye, truly Adolph 
and all his host did reverently fall upon their knees in 
front of those massed papists, and when after their battle- 
prayer our Swedes did ring forth Luther’s great hymn, ‘ A 
Tower of Strength is our God, ’ the whole earth veritably 
shook as with an answering heaven. Then went forth our 
Swedish battle-cry ‘ God ivith us ’ and our hero-king led 
that charge of wildest joy which had e’en then won the 
day but for Pappenheim’s unforeseen relief. But read, 
read, my Ebba. I hinder ye o’ermuch” 

Without further delay the reading was continued to the 
conclusion of the battle of Uutzen, and again the ladies 
relapsed into silence. 

“On that field, my child,’’ said the elder at length, “my 
heart lies buried: for there fell my beloved. Amid heaps 
of slain found we my lifeless Eric close to the dead body 
of his king.’’ 

“ Fit place truly and expiation ample, were aught such 
required of grandma.’’ 

“ Aye, a noble sacrifice to king, to family, to faith. Ke 
escaped unharmed until his monarch fell ; but when 
the cry went forth ‘the king bleeds’ the fury of our soldiers 
knew no bounds ; and at the bugle’s call Eric headed the 
charge to recover the king’s body. Frightful, unspeak- 
able was the carnage ! The rage of Smaland and Gothland 
regiments — of the men of our Sodermanland — nay, of all 
lo3’al Swedes, seemed rather the wrath of Gods than of 
men ; else we had lost the day when our leader fell. But 
the royal body gained our men, and the victory. And at 
last after wide and weary search, nigh at hand found we 
my beloved, his face to the ground in the plenteous death- 
garden nigh unto that noted ‘Swedish Stone’ which doth 
and shall mark ever the sacrificial spot.’’ 

“ ’Twas an even struggle, most woeful,’’ said the other 
“ and a doubtful victoiy as I read the story.’’ 

“Verily a contest of heroes saw the world that day at 
Lutzen. Against two such generals as that princely bad 
Wallenstein and that splendid madman Pappenheim ! aye, 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


1 1 

the fight could be not else than desperate to the end. But 
our Swedes kept the advantage. Had their commander 
been spared completer had been the victory. As it was 
the king’s object, yes, ’twas achieved.” 

“But, grandma, how shocking these bloody wars. What 
sufferings untold do they not cause.” 

“ Truly, child. But this bloodiest, wastefulest of wars 
did our king everything in reason to avoid.” 

Avoid ! how came he then to leave his own kingdom 
to fight in a distant land ?” 

“ Ebba dear, too young art thou to share the grave con- 
cernments which perplex wiser heads ; but this much thou 
e’en now shalt know that our king warred abroad to fore- 
stal sure invasion at home ; to shield all who would wor- 
ship God in the true faith ; to rescue our brother Protes- 
tants from persecution and exile. Ah, just and noble 
Adolphus ! Righteous ruler ! Incomparable king ! The 
greatest warrior of the age, he was its sincerest lover of 
peace. The last to move in an unjustwar; for a just cause, 
the first. So regal, 3^et so simple. Grand in purpose, 
child-like in demeanor, his was the true Norse blood, his 
the spirit of the- old Berserker christianized to defend the 
weak against the strong, and turn his old pagan rage to 
new espousal of God’s reign on earth.” Again as the 
Generalskan warmed with her theme she left her seat while 
the silvery gleam rekindled her eyes. 

“Yes, 3"es, ever speaketh my grandma with inspiiing 
fervor of the hero-king and his cause. And glad are all 
true Swedes that time better showeth ever the knightly 
and prophetic soul of Gustavus Adolphus. Heedless of 
vulgar fame he made the Father’s cause his own and kept 
the faith e’en as the mailed warrior of old kept his testing 
shield. But why kings should — what I ne’er could com- 
prehend — ” 

‘ ‘ Nay, my child can comprehend not at all such perplexi- 
ties of state-craft. Nor is it meet she should. They be 
matters for sager reckoning than her years do warrant.” 

“ But, m\^ grandma,” replied the girl with an impatient 
tinge invoice and cheek, “well I comprehend that our 
Adolphus in no wise belonged to the common race of 
kings : for they do but snatch at each other’s crowns as 
children quarrel over their playthings ; and e’en children 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


I 2 

may know how wanton ’tis for the strong to afflict the 
weak. Wicked indeed is causeless strife whether betwixt 
individuals or nations, and I marvel at the blind patience 
of friendly peoples who submit to bemg forced into wars 
wherein they reap the misery and their rulers the vain- 
glory. God hasten the day when the direst sufferers from 
so great a wrong shall have the right to — ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The right to obey implicitly the commands of their 
rulers like good subjects ! How serve else their country 
and their God as becometh patriots and Christians ?’ ’ - 

And the old lady proudly strode the floor as she con- 
tinued, “Not pleased am I to find my Ebba taking up with 
these new notions now unhappily spreading much abroad. 
What, forsooth, know these common people of the weighty 
prerogatives of crown and church ? Would’st have them 
judge their superiors? We do hear much in these latter 
days concerning private judgment, liberty of conscience 
and what not perverse ideas. It beseemeth me there be 
e’er lessening respect for such as hold rightful authority, 
which bodeth little good to aftertimes. Devoutly I had 
hoped such spirit would ne’er receive countenance from 
this ancient house, and I will yet dare trust that my grand- 
daughter will set her face against whate’er shall unsettle 
the minds of the people. But my child, the cows ! It 
groweth late. Olaf is absent to-day. Drive thou the 
herd from the meadow.’’ 

The imperious mien of the Generalskan as she spoke 
showed that she meant the words to end the conversation: 
and when Ebba was about to reply she merely waved her 
hand and pointed through the window, quietly adding, “See 
e’en now the shadows, how long they be grown. Tarry 
not.’’ 

The girl bit her lip at her summary dismissal, and for 
a hasty instant, rebellious blood flushed her face. Then 
she silently rose and in another moment was gone. 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

Taking the shortest way to the meadow, Ebba followed 
a footpath winding up over the half-enclosing ridge, which 
led to the inland fields. A few steps from the house she 
skirted the longest limbs of Druid Jarl, an ancient oak of 
vast size and peculiar rootage, mysteriously linked with 
ancestral traditions from the days of the old vikings. 

Bearing a little to the right into the broad shade of the 
oak, she turned a moment to observe the quiet picture be- 
low her. Under an absolute lull not a leaf stirred in the 
summer air. The shores and islands of the fjord seemed 
hushed to sleep upon its fair bosom, and its whole basin 
held a powderly light as if filled with the blended siftings 
of hovering silver and gold. 

The young girl as she gazed was all unconscious of a 
pair of longing eyes fixed intently upon her ; and she was 
hardly recalled to herself by a single low bark ventured as 
an experiment, before a large family dog bounded to her 
feet. 

“No, Varg, not to-day;’’ and as she spoke Ebba passed 
her hand through his shaggy hair while the dog suppressed 
a whine, “not this time: Olaf’s away and Varg must keep 
watch and guard.’’ 

The dog dropped head and tail in grievous disappoint- 
ment. Retreating a short distance he stealthily turned as 
if with hope of relentment, and springing again to his mis- 
tress gazed into her face with a look of unutterable yearn- 
ing: had it been utterable it could not have voiced a more 
fervid plea. 

“ For shame, Varg !’’ responded Ebba to the mute ap- 
peal, “ would’st leave the Generalskan all alone ? go back 
at once!’’ 

With a shame-faced look and generally drooping mien, 
the intelligent creature returned to the house, only once 
venturing upon a backward look for a confirmatory ver- 
dict from the uplifted finger of his mistress. 


14 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Crossing the dividing ridge Ebba descended an easterl}^ 
slope, crossed a grassy intervale and entered a footpath 
which skirted a large dark forest of evergreens. Although 
high noon had spent its hottest breath, the waning day 
languished with growing sultriness. A slumberous hush 
lay upon the fields. Over those being plowed an appetiz- 
ing smell rose from the steamy furrows, and everywhere 
the quivering heat hovered visibly close to the gasping 
earth. 

Beyond the coniferous woods the pathway slowly as- 
cended to a comparatively open area of 'limited extent. 
Yonder a rounded mass of festooned rocks towered darkly 
against the sky. Over in that ragged opening piles of 
light granite lay half concealed amid tangled brushwood, 
and near in front was a tumbling stone fence overrun with 
briars and wild vines. Crossing this barrier b}^ a rude 
style, Ebba pushed on past a grassy slope over which a few 
drooping birch cast their delicate shadows; and then after 
skirting a grove of pines and firs flanked with white-limbed 
beech the path led on to a copse of wild cherry and quak- 
ing asp growing under the brow of a stony hillock. From 
its base bubbled a cool spring which stole away to a tiny 
brook here burying itself under a bushy undergrowth, 
and there meandering amid open grassy banks. 

Here in the shade of an overhanging elm the girl seated 
herself and gazed around. With its ragged outlines and 
stern features this particular landscape would have pre- 
sented to most observers little that was either beautiful or 
winsomely picturesque; it was essentially both to the 
present beholder who felt its tender associations and saw 
its verdurous promise. The pale green of young grain 
fields mingling with the deeper tints of earlier vegetation, 
merged into a sweeping background of dark forest. Soft 
grassy meads alternated with pale scrawny uplands. Amid 
nature’s austere supremacy sylvan openings disclosed 
cattle on the hills and wandering sheep brightening the 
gloomy shades of lonely woods. Ever is a touching verity 
in the pictures of the stern Northland. In their darkest 
settings lurk the depth and tenderness so linked in strange 
sympathy with human vicissitude. But here now was the 
sweetest tone of summer peace. 

For in the utter calm even the leaves of the aspen were 


Ebb a Borjcsoii. 


15 


motionless: the smoke of burning turf hung lazily in mid 
air and drooped languidly downward: singing birds and 
lowing kine were hushed for the time; and mingled with 
the hum of insects, Ebba heard only the murmur of the 
brook at her feet. This found its tedious way into a lower 
pasture field and there widened into a pebbly pool over- 
hung with birch. Into this limpid retreat some grave- 
faced cows had gathered for cool reflection: and two of 
them had gone aside to perform the civil service of lick- 
ing each other’s backs, bringing close their heads at inter- 
vals for more confiding interchange of favors. Others 
were grouped in lazy attitudes, still reluctant to give over 
the long day’s browsing, or lay in belching .satiety with 
yet busy mouths revolving the good things they had 
stored awa}^ from the day’s lush pasturings. 

Absorbed in the pastoral scene before her Ebba had not 
observed the bank of black clouds which had been collect- 
ing along the horizon behind. In all the sky- vault there 
had been but a tiny white cloud which she had seen dis- 
solve itself in summer blue. Nor in her reverie had she 
suspected anything ominous in the sultry stillness of the 
atmosphere. But as she now turned for a parting sip at 
the spring she was startled with storm-warnings. A low 
cloud-belt of sullen purple was notching itself into the 
bright sky : there was a gentle stir among the leaves ; an 
advance whiff from the storm was quickly followed by an 
audible rustle of grass and bushes, and immediately after 
she heard a low rumble of distant thunder. Turning with 
alarm Ebba hastened on to the meadow. The wind scur- 
ried into gusty and assailing volumes with fast gathering 
fury. Before she could reach the expectant cows the tree 
tops were swaying violentl}^ in the gale, fierce clouds were 
scudding across the sky and a threatening mass of purple 
black billows surged wildly in the western heavens. Ebba 
had continually quickened her steps and she was now hur- 
ried forcibly on with the blast while the sky grew blacker, 
the reverse wind at fitful moments impeded her movements, 
and successive flashes of forked lightening blinded her 
eyes. 

The gate into the pasture meadow which she opened 
with great difficulty, was wrenched by the wind from her 
grasp and slammed violently back to its stone post. A 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


i6 

second and third effort fared no better, but at length tak- 
ing advantage of an instant’s shift of wind she succeeded 
in fastening open the gate and, hurrying into the field, 
called loudly to the cows. But the storm had gained so 
much in fury that her voice was drowned. Peals of 
thunder in quick succession mingled with the shrieking 
gale ; trees in the open field were bent low and the dense 
dark forest tossed and roared like the maddened ocean. 
It was with the utmost difficulty that the young girl could 
keep her feet, and in fear of being dashed to the ground 
she clung momentarily to a tree stump embedded in a 
rocky knoll which she encountered in the field. Mean- 
while the unwonted suddenness and fury of the storm 
had startled even the cows and the confused creatures ran 
wildly about in different directions, so that even when 
closely approached they seemed heedless alike of their or- 
dinar}’ instincts and the familiar call of their mistress. 
Almost in despair Ebba persevered against failing strength 
in her effort to collect and turn the drove toward the open 
gate. Then, suddenly, in a quick interval of the windy 
uproar she thought she heard a human voice. Intently 
listening in another instant the words “this way’’ were 
borne to her ears on the fitful gale. She looked hastily 
about but saw no person. 

“ This way to the gate !’’ repeated the voice. “ Stand 
fast there on the right. I’ll go to the left.’’ 

Before seeing the speaker Ebba gladly heeded the 
friendly words and soon there appeared as from the massed 
clouds a young man of vigorous movements and energetic 
voice, through whose aid the animals were speedily driven 
through the gate into the lane. 

“Kind sir, I thank — why, can it be?’’ exclaimed the 
young lady, approaching the stranger, “Surely then is’t — 
is’t Herr Mondahl, yes?’’ 

The young man modestly bowed his head in assent. 

“ Whence and how came you? ’Tis a mad gale truly. 
Flew you here e’en as a Storm-King?’’ 

“Is’t rather in wonder than in gladness, then, that 
Ebba Borjeson seeth me here? Dost deplore this meet- 
ing?’’ 

“Say not so, Herr Mondahl. Nay, the coming was a 
most kind and timely act. I had failed of my errand, 
else. ’Twas bravely done. Much I thank you.’’ 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


17 • 

The howling winds made conversation difficult and the 
young couple could only follow on after the hurrying 
cows : but by the time the latter emerged from the lane 
into the open road the gale had spent its greatest force ; 
and with a few large scattering drops of rain the clouds 
began to break away and the storm subsided as quickly as 
it had arisen. The animals had slackened their pace with 
the quieting of the storm, and they now trailed along the 
summer road in lazy procession homeward, while their 
two drivers followed in silence. With the subsiding 
winds the silence bred a feeling of mutual constraint 
which threatened to grow awkward. 

“ ’Twill not greatly rain,” exclaimed the young lady in 
a desperate effort to relieve the embarrassment, which 
remark in view of the rapidly clearing sky was less pro- 
found than truthful, and elicited a nodding assent rather 
than audible reply. 

“’Twas a most fearful, blow,” was her next venture, 
which being fraught with equal truth and originality 
extorted the conclusive reply : 

” Indeed it was.” 

This evidenced progress : and the young lady thus 
encouraged launched upon a bolder venture. 

“ We have few summer storms in Sweden. Rains, ’tis 
true, come then plentiful enough, but not often rage these 
sudden storms of wind and thunder which make us quake 
with fear. In all my life I ne’er saw, much less felt, nor 
e’en conceived, a more furious gale than this of to-day. 
My grandma has often spoken of their greater number 
and violence beyond the Baltic ; and Olaf declares that 
for more than thirty years — 

“Pardon, I pray. Of storms mayhap we have had 
enough to-day. I have somewhat to say upon another 
matter.” 

‘ ‘ But, at least, I would first learn how came you so 
opportunely to the rescue. Saw you then the storm 
coming?” 

“Not so. It came up all so quickly. It gave no sign 
when I left the city. But I would speak with you of — ” 

“ Ah ! when left you Stockholm, and how are all our 
true friends in the goodly city? How left you the 
Countess B. and the much visiting Backstrom ? And 

2 


t8 Ebb a Borjcson. 

could then 3^011 leave the fair Iduna ? and came you then 
to—’ ’ 

“To — to — seek — Mamsell Borjeson,” stammered the 
young man in a low tone of tremulous deliberation. 

“Me!” And the warm blood mounted for an instant 
into her face. Compressing her lips as if to prevent 
utterance Ebba made no reply, and as the two walked on 
in silence the young girl cut at the road-side bushes 
listles.sly with her hand-switch. 

“Care you not at all then,” said Halvor after along 
silence, “ to learn why I seek you? Doth Ebba Borjeson 
remember naught — careth she nothing of aught spoken 
in the island grove ?’ ’ 

“In that lovely park that silvery night? Ah, truly, I 
remember all. But is ’t well? Should we then — all?” 

“And was’t too much then, think you, — to me? Can I 
forget it at will ? Is’t nothing e’en to hope ?” 

“ Nay, fair was its promise. -Oh, bright as a dream of 
heaven comes to me the vision of that summer night — 
that sheeny lake, ever peerless Maelar, and the Enchant- 
ing sail on its fair bosom, gliding among its countless isles 
of beauty! And then, when we swept outward through 
Norrstrom and passed the gem-like castle-isle and rock^^ 
Beckholm, oh, how loftily lifted the tree-tops in the moon- 
light from the dark shore of that proud grand island of 
which ’tis said our king will one day make a great city 
park. What know you of such prospect?” 

“The same have I heard — ’tis e’en the public expecta- 
tion, I believe. And glad I am that you so fondly recall 
what I e’en do live upon in the past: and withal now 
comes the time to — ” 

“Ah, I well-nigh grieve that it shall come to pass, for 
’tis e’en now a fitting djurgorden — a spot so dowered b}^ 
nature that I much fear man’s hand will do more to mar 
than adorn it. Yes, yes, oh, sweeter than ever stands out 
that summer night in memorj^ And hardly less was the 
fresh beauty of that morning view from the terraced 
heights of Mosebacke. Ne’er can I forget how brightly 
flashed the sun among the embowered islands — how 
ancient Riddarholmen, with its hoary church pointed into 
the sparkling lake — how the crowded Staden lay at our 
feet in its setting of pale green waters, lifting its granite 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


19 


platform whereon the new royal palace will proudly stand. 
And, yes, how gracefull}^ sloped gay Norrmalm from its 
circling Highlands to the lapping current at its feet — and 
all the while, too, so much to take our attention close at 
hand. Remember 3^011 how we admired the new church 
of St. Catharine reared upon its lofty perch and, oh, 
remember you the old wind mill and the crooked lanes 
where we clambered on the Capellansbacken and saw the 
curious old slab of marble with its dim Latin inscription 
and its fading traces of the crucifixion — and — and remem- 
ber you — ” 

“Yes, yes,” abruptly interposed Halvor, impatient of 
further cajolement, for there was no telling how long the 
other would have vented her enthusiasm. “Oh, keenly 
enough I remember everything; but the more seems it 
strange that 3^011 so easily recall all that was seen and 
naught that was said.’’ 

’“ Better .so, perchance; for is not what we see, of God 
and what we mostly hear, of man?’’ and as she spoke 
there was a trace of mischief in her solemn words. 

“Of God or man, thou shalt hear me! I have some- 
thing to say e’en about — about — Ebba Borjeson, I would 
speak now of — ” 

“The rainbow, the rainbow! See, see!” exclaimed 
Ebba, pointing to the gorgeous belt of colors, which at 
that moment arched the heavens. “O, how beautiful!” 

“ Beautiful!” repeated Halvor, as he vacantly stared, 
half dazed, at the spectacle. 

“Ah, can an3^thing so assure us of the glory to come? 
Seems it not to span the void ’twixt heaven and earth ? 
doth it not symbol the miracle divine — nay, hinteth it not 
e’en of reconciliation; of peace ? Nothing earthly is so rich 
in beauty and grace unspeakable! Surely ’tis a promise 
of—” 

“Promise!” broke in the young man “ Aye, a bow 
of promise : so be it then— so hail I the good omen.” The 
speaker turned as if to take the hand of his companion, 
but, anticipating his purpose, she slyly sprang from his 
side and ran forward calling to the cows who had stopped 
in the road. Here a cluster of firs grew from a ma.ss of 
jagged rocks which partially obstructed the road-way, over 
which a leaning oak spread its protecting limbs. The 


20 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


sprinkling rain had quickened the smell of earth and woods' 
a soft low breeze murmured through the rocky copse and 
the cooling air, breathing of country things, was newly 
laden with the sounds and scents of summer. Against a 
projecting rock the leading cow had stopped to scratch her 
neck, and her companions with a bovine zest of pleasant 
now spread themselves under the trees. 

“Mamsell Borjeson !” resumed Halvor with maddened 
impatience, “Wilt not hear me? Would’st not know 
how my heart yearns for 

“ Daisy !“ suddenly exclaimed the girl, calling after one 
of the straying cows, “ there, there! come here now; come 
back, Daisy.” 

“ Nay, nay, not longer will I be put aside. You shall 
hear me — Ebba Borjeson shall know how fondly I love — ” 

“ Brindle !” again interrupted the other calling aloud as 
one of the animals horned another. “ For shame Brindle! 
how dare you hurt little Snow-face?” and she strode for- 
ward to caress the pet. 

An angry flush shot into the face of the young man ; he 
turned indignantly away and bidding an abrupt adieu 
hastily took a backward by-wa}' across the flelds and was 
gone almost before the other was aware of the move- 
ment. 

The young girl’s heart sorely smote her. Half dazed 
with the abrupt turn of affairs, a quick sense of wilful folly 
impelled her steps toward her retreating companion, and 
she called hi§ name aloud. Halvor hesitated, stopped, 
and awaited her approach. 

“ Pray forgive me ! Indeed I meant no rudeness. You 
have been very kind. Oh, I know well my own per- 
versity.” 

“ I have nothing to forgive,” replied Halvor with quiet 
dignity. “I came to bid youfarewelland strove to say how 
fondly I love my dear home land — how my heart shall 
yearn to kind friends when I leave it.” 

‘ ‘ Leave it — leave our Sweden ! What mean 3^ou ?’ ’ 

“ I have been chosen as a member of the family of 
Baron Leijonberg, who hath gone upon his second term as 
Envoy Extraordinary to the court of London.” 

Low rumbling thunder yet lingered at intervals from the 
subsided storm, and the scattered clouds had piled them- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


21 


selves into vivid and billowy masses in the western sky. 
Their confused and changeful outlines were gradually 
bordered with gold, and then all vanished before a 
sheeted light of deep fiery red which curtained the heavens 
with a suffused and formless illumination stretching from 
the sunken sun to the zenith as from a vast conflagration 
on a neighboring planet. 

So now was changed and afar all that lately seemed 
tauntingly near and real to the young girl. She was 
rooted to the spot ; her tongue seemed paralyzed. Then 
as Halvor, waving his farewell, again moved off, she aroused 
herself suddenly to call aloud, 

“ When leave you Sweden ?” 

“ I await orders. Am prepared to go at a moment’s 
notice.” 

Ebba remained a moment less observing than vaguely 
conscious of the retreating figure of her late companion, 
then turned and walked .slowly homeward. 


CHAPTER IV. 

While it would be impossible to divine all that filled the 
hearts of these two young people, it is easy enough to 
guess some of the feelings which contended for supremacy 
with each of them. . For they were but part and lot of 
those heart intricacies whose very familiarity is among 
the world’s chiefest mysteries. Chagrin, at least, to sur- 
mise no further of her experiences, held momentary po- 
session of the young girl. She felt herself fairly caught 
and punished by her own idle perversity. Although well 
aware of Halvor’ s friendliness she had never thought of 
him in the attitude of a lover; and like so many young 
girls similarly placed, she did not know her own heart in 
a matter involving life-long consequences. But unlike so 
many she was, with all her oddities, a real girl, not a 
sham. So, simple honesty if not wounded pride com- 
pelled the frank admission that she had once more suffered 
an unaccountable wilfulness to thwart her better impulses. 

On the other hand the young man as he wended his way 


22 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


asked himself for the hundreth time what there was about 
this young woman that so strangely fascinated him. He 
could not truthfully aver that she was either beautiful or 
accomplished, amiable or stylish; nor, though ready and 
piquant, that she was specially witty or brilliant He 
sometimes questioned her goodness, and when driven to 
desperation by her waywardness he had more than once 
sternly resolved to be utterly emancipated from a win- 
some entanglement which threatened his complete captiv- 
ity. And yet — yet he could not seriously charge her with 
wanton coquetry. What seemed such sprang from her in- 
stinctive rejection of fettering conventionalism with an ex- 
aggerated love of being simpl}^ her natural self — to do her 
own thinking and acting just as she had her own, and not 
another’s feelings. No, Halvor admitted, it was her scorn 
rather than love of shams that often made her appear to be 
acting a part. And after all, was she not a brave, true girl 
at the core — one too honest for affectation and too kind for 
cruel intention ? 

But then how mercilessly she had balked him ! What 
did common fairness or offended pride, or — vanity demand 
of him ? Well, well, the young man couldn't really decide 
to his lasting satisfaction: for he found himself softening 
before he had firml}^ hardened toward the vexing creature. 
So he came to half a dozen firm conclusions and as often 
reversed them in the course of an hour’s walk; and he ended 
with the feeling that somehow or other the girl had more 
than ever piqued his interest and was every day growing 
more unaccountably necessary to his happiness. 

Halvor was in no wise given to introspective subtleties, 
and he wholly failed to fix the elusive secret of her power 
over him. All he knew with certainty was that he felt 
himself a stronger and better man — a man lifted to higher 
and worthier aims, when in the presence of this rather 
plain, decidedly pat, and often wilful girl; and if he didn’t 
pretend to understand her, he felt sure she was too proudly 
honest to make him a convenient object for the exercise 
of the sportive blandishments and petty arts so much 
practiced in fashionable socieW. 

The writer of this narrative eartily accords with the 
opinion that readers should make the acquaintance of the 
actors in fiction as they make those in real life, gradually, 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


23 


as opportunity offers and knowledge extends respecting 
them. Bnt as what is set forth in these pages forms 
something other than a tale “founded on fact,’’ such 
means of acquiring knowledge of character is here not 
strictly applicable. Besides, in books as in real life it may 
often be of advantage to all concerned that certain out- 
ward circumstances pertaining to the actors should be 
known at the outset. Wherefore, it is here stated that 
Halvor Mondahl was a tall, broad-shouldered, manly 
young fellow with ruddy cheeks and open countenance as 
well as an erect military bearing. In these particulars as 
in his sunny hair and blue eyes and also in a certain 
unconscious strength and lack of perfect ease, he was a 
true type of that general Teutonic family which is wont to 
use speech only as a vehicle of thought, and to think what 
little is spoken. He had been well educated and moved 
among reputable people, and like most healthy natures 
was disposed to assume the existing, as somewhere near 
the best attainable, condition of affairs, without troubling 
himself with those religious and political speculations 
which were just then agitating Europe to a culminating 
point. Little is known of his ancestry beyond the fact 
that his forefathers were eminently respectable people, 
who prided themselves more upon what they did for them- 
selves than upon what was done for them by their family 
predecessors. 

Ebba Borjeson, as has been observed, was the grand- 
child of a gallant officer in the Thirty Years’ war, who fell 
by the side of his king on the memorable battle-field of 
Lutzen. The stricken young widow, upon the .sad event, 
returned to Sweden, and retiring to the old family estate, 
within a few months gave birth to a daughter, the mother 
of Ebba. Although inheriting some of the stalwart 
qualities of her mother, this daughter was delicate from 
childhood. After marriage her health declined from the 
birth of her first child, a boy, and some years later she 
sacrificed her life in giving birth to Ebba, her second 
child. 

The husband and father, Herr Axel Borjeson was 
unfortunate enough to live far in advance of his age. 
With a broad, generous and confiding nature he cherished 
an ardent faith in the progress of the race and lent a 


24 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


ready ear to every project promising to further its welfare. 
The needy and oppressed found in him ever a faithful 
friend and fearless defender. At once tender and strong, 
with refined sensibilities, his humane and enlightened 
views as well as his unerring sense of justice were better 
fitted to the nineteenth, than the seventeenth century. 
He early embarked in the development of an iron mine 
in Dalecarlia and soon amassed a considerable fortune, 
but by too large a venture in a new process of iron pro- 
duction, not only his own means were totally swept away 
but those of his wife and some loved friends were much 
reduced. The strain was, great upon his keen and brood- 
ing sense of obligation : his health became impaired, and 
in this condition he was seriously wounded by an accident 
at his busy works. After this he sank rapidly in spite of 
his wish to live to make restitution to his friends : and 
after a bitter struggle to that end this man of noble 
impulses died, yielding his busy life of hope and faith 
when his daughter was but six years old. His death 
was hastened by the misconduct of his son, an impetuous 
youth, who had become involved in a lawless act and 
subsequently fled the country. 

Of this act of her erring brother Ebba retained only 
vague and mournful memories. She had never seen her 
mother ; and of her father she cherished childi.sh impress- 
ions more like a sweet dream than a memory. She grew 
up entirely under the care of her grandmother. How she 
thus grew the young lady will speak mainly for herself in 
these pages. Suffice it here to say that she was far from 
being the. ideal heroine usually accepted either in ro- 
mance or real life. In her make up strongly opposing 
forces met in hearty antagonism, compounding a 3'oung 
woman of keen insight with a propensity to jostle things, 
but on the whole, of rather unusual good sense. The 
pure blonde of the large placid Teuton was confronted in 
her by the deeper tints and more mercurial mettle of the 
Celt, which were compromised by the union of blue-black 
hair with light complexion, while the Saxon blue of a pair 
of telling eyes was glinted with such silvery hazel as im- 
parted to them a subtle and unreadable expression. A 
doubter to the verge of skepticism, her faith bordered 
upon fanaticism ; with an imperious will she coupled a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


25 


child-like pliancy ; with a glowing imagination she off-set 
a love and aptitude for home-spun realism. For the rest, 
the love of this young girl for beauty in its ruder forms 
seemed rather an intuition than a growth, while the weird 
poetry of the old Norse mythology had for her a peculiar 
fascination ; but what most marked and isolated her was 
such a closely sympathetic feeling for nature a‘s was little 
comprehended in the polemic age in which she lived. 

While the two young people lingered to exchange part- 
ing words, the cows sauntered idly along until taken in 
charge by Olaf, the farm drang. That indispensable man 
of all work alarmed at finding the animals unattended, was 
hastening to look after his lost young mistress when Ebba 
suddenly appeared at a turn in the road. 

Father Infinite be praised !” cried he, “our froken 
then is safe. We feared she had perished in the storm.” 

“Safe, Olaf, quite safe. How fared all at our home ? 
Saw you to the comfort of grandma ?” 

“ E’en so when I. could come to her out of the waves : 
for I was o’ertaken on the lake and capsized on roundin’ 
into the fjord. 

“ Olaf! poor man : is’t so indeed? Praised truly be the 
Father. Though life was spared ’twas with suffering and 
terror, mayhap ?” 

“ Thanks, then, good mamsell ; much as a wet duck 
suffereth : for ’twas e’en on the shallow point I was dipped 
and I had but to shake my feathers and fly to the General- 
skan.” 

‘ ‘ And she ?” 

“ Was for herself cool enough, but marched the room in 
fear for her grandchild in the fields. For the gale did un- 
roof the hither cow-house, scatter the lawn with broken 
limbs and sorely shook the old mansion. Nav, e’en rock 
Look-out did seem to quake to his base. There’s been no 
such blow I ween since the night Arvid went aw — 

“Hist!” breathed Ebba with bated breath, her Anger 
on her lips. “ Should’st be more guarded, Olaf. Said’st 
not so to the Generalskan I trust. To but speak brother’s 
name doth wreck her grievously.” 

“ Nay, nothing spake I ; but herself was minded of that 
wild night : for e’en as she bade me search for our Ebba, 
methought she muttered sum'at as “in such a storm lost 


26 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


I one o’ my jewels — Father above preserve the other!” — 
and so troubled seemed our good lady that had she been 
alone — 

“ Alone?” asked Ebba, “ Had she company then?” 

‘ • Knowest not then ? The spoilt one was there — him 
as blinks and bows.” 

The young girl vexatiously bit her lip and drew aside 
without further speech. The cows had reached their 
milking lot, and as they waited their turn in speechless 
content, they loaded the evening air with fragrant breath- 
ings from the meadows. As Olaf settled himself with the 
milk pail Ebba stroked the sleek coats of Broadfoot and Red- 
sides, then speaking some pleasant words to Rustycoat, 
Daisy and Snowface, she ascended toward the house. Varg 
bounded down to meet her. The dog had entertained 
serious doubts as to his whole duty respecting the rather 
sUvSpicious stranger within and the howling storm without; 
and his joy at the safe return of his mistress could only be 
vented by his racing round the object of his affections in a 
sort of whirligig devotion in which, if there was little de- 
corum, there was less doubt of his delirious fealty. 

The orange light of a long summer day yet lingered in 
the west and the fjord lay warm in a delicious afterglow. 
Before entering the house Ebba paused a moment to gaze 
at the mellow picture and then rejoined her grand parent 
within. 


CHAPTER Y. 

As intimated by Olaf,- the old lady had not been alone 
during the great storm. Her visitor was a man whom 
most casual observers would have called elderly, but who 
belonged to a class of persons whose age cannot well be 
guessed. His face might have belonged to any age. Its 
blank, yet metallic leer was expressionless alike of the 
emotions of youth and the experience of maturity. But 
though persons might differ as to the age of Bengt Ericson, 
they generally agreed in their dislike of him as an arro- 
gant and selfish man with a certain stealthy smoothness 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


27 


of manner which bred distrust. Effusing with a stylish 
elaboration of speech and costume, the man seemed to 
exhale an unwholesome odor of faded finery. He was, or 
claimed to be, distantly related to the descendants of 
Sweden’s great Father-king Gustavus Vasa, of which he 
was less proud than of the trace of French blood derived 
from another family branch, of which he made special ac- 
count. He had never married, but spent much time and 
as large a share of a considerable income as his miserly 
nature would permit in travelling abroad. He had been 
much in France and gave early indications of that affecta- 
tion of French manners which in later years has done 
much to modify, if not corrupt, the frank and simple dig- 
nity which characterized the social intercourse of ancient 
Sweden. Although the old lady had maintained for years 
a limited acquaintance with Bengt Kricson, her interest in 
him arose less from what she knew of the man, than from 
his respectable relatives, and especially from his supposed, 
connection with that illustrious Vasa family whose historic 
fame was her proud delight. 

It was but a little while after Ebba had disappeared 
over the hills to bring the cows that this man presented 
himself ; and he awaited his reception with an oddly de- 
precatory air mingled with one of assurance. 

The Generalskan gave him* a greeting of stately cor- • 
diality. 

“Walkommen! Walkommen !” she exclaimed as she 
extended her hand and with quiet dignity waved him to a 
seat. “ A cordial welcome.” 

” Ah, I hav-a ze great honaire!” he replied, rubbing his 
hands and bowing low,“ze great honaire, zis from ze high 
ladee.” 

“Truly glad am I, Bengt Ericson — My pleasure ’tis 
much, to see you then once more in Sweden.” 

“ Pleasaire ! ah ze Generalskan zo vera kind : ze grran’ 
madame, she do me ze grraat ah, honaire !” 

“ When returned you from Paris, then?” 

“Ah, ze day, Generalskan, ze day.” 

“ To-day! then ’tis I who am honored by a call so early. 
Your pardon I crave,” and the hostess stepping to a side 
door signalled a domestic and repeatingthe call, “Helga!” 
she gave orders in a low voice, and soon there appeared 


Ebba Borjeson. 


28 


an immense house-maid with carrotty face and white hair 
and eyes, bearing an ancient silver tray supporting a flask 
of wine with glasses. “Ah, then, ’’ she continued. “ we 
dricka skal!” directing the maid toward the guest. “Com- 
pliments of host to visitor. ’ ’ 

Daintily taking a glass after partially filling it from the 
flask, the guest took a sip of the wine and lifted it to in- 
spect it through the light. 

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed, “ze age; ze qualitee ! 
Nevaire was nectar bettaire.” 

“Thanks ! If age giveth excellence it must needs be 
fair. Myself brought it from the Rhine near fifty years 
ago.” 

“ Pardonne, Generalskan, how? feefty year? Ee wine 
is old but-a not ze host ; no 1” 

‘ ‘ In our campaign in Germany ; when I left the army 
after Lutzen, then brought I home the wine which e’en 
.then they called old.” 

“ Ze more ze honaire, vive le Generalskan!” and the 
speaker quaffed the liquor with a terminal smack of his 
lips. He was honored more than he knew ; for beside its 
sacred associations with husband and army, the wine was 
the last of a precious supply, which was drawn upon at 
rare intervals and only upon extraordinary occasions, 
while the quaint old decanter containing the fluid and the 
massive silver waiter upon which it was served, were old 
family heirlooms rarely brought into actual use. To her 
guest’s loquacious praise of the wine the old lady quietly 
replied that she valued it more for its memories than for 
itself ; “else were I Sw-ede enough to think e’en our fiery 
finkelbranvin fittest for Swedish use. But came you 
only to-day, said you, to Sweden?” 

“ Ah, I no wait for ze morrow to pa^^ ze trrue homage 
to ze madame ; ze first day in the koontra I zalloot ze 
grraan’ ladee,” and the fussy gallant warming with the 
wine, arose and with a very low bow suddenly seized the 
old lady’s hand, upon which he impressed a deferential 
kiss. 

“ Bengt Ericson,” said she, smiling slightly, with a 
half amused look of impatience, “is ever gallant and 
courteous. Recalls he the days of yore — the days of 
knightly feats in love, if not in war ; nay, when he 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


29- 


speaketh can I e’en bethink me of those e’er memorable 
days — of those men brave and true; yes, of that dear 
soldier-life when I was young.” 

“Young! Zure ze Generalskan grrows not h’old. ^e 
madame is avare ze froken young ; avare ze grraaceful ze 
bloom — 

“Bengt Ericson, enough I Think you to flatter an old 
woman as you would a silly girl? Have done 1 At least 
am I no fool.” 

“ Pardonne ! But ah, ze mam’selle ? Is — ze fair froken 
— ze graanschill, well? Ise she at home, yes?” 

“Well, and at home,” replied the other with dignity. 

“Ah!” sighed Bengt, placing his hand languishingly 
upon his heart. “ Zat mattaire, eh ?” continued he, draw- 
ing his chair closer to the old lady. ‘ ‘ Was'ze Generalskan 
zo good as to speak wid ze mam’selle, yes?” 

“Truly did I so.” 

“Yes, yes,” he continued eagerly, again moving closer 
his chair. “Ah, my frrien, zhe is varra kind.” 

The old lady paused, pushing back her chair, and 
turned her attention to the gathering storm without. 

“Well, well,” continued the visitor, with growing im- 
patience, “and ze mam’selle, eh?” 

“ Bengt Ericson,” she replied slowly, “must be patient. 
Ebba is dutiful — ” 

“ Zertain!” 

“And shall be ever obedient. But she — is — is — self- 
willed. A high spirit hath my grand-child. She cannot 
be bitted and ribboned and honied as is a weak girl.” 

“Ah, zo?” 

“ She will think now not at all of marriage. Strange 
notions hath she, and unaccountable. She taketh sides 
ever with common folk, and heedeth o’er much their 
tales of fancied wrongs. But true blood hath my Ebba! 
Bengt Ericson, mark ye! My grandchild is proud, yea, 
obstinate. Nay, false ideas may she harbor, false pridCy 
never. She hath the old mettle, the high spirit of — ” 

“Of her grrandma, ze fine ladee,” interposed the other. 
“Ah, I zee, I zee. But ze madame did tell hare, then, of 
my grraat store of riches — of ze fine house an’ ze grran’’ 
ladee zhe shall be, eh?” 

“ Yes, yes, but careth she naught for such.” 


30 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Naught for zuch!” 

This man had been deemed handsome in his youth. 
His features had classical and finished delicacy of tone; 
he had scarcely yet reached middle life, and many 3^et 
were the fashionable girls who would have joined am- 
bitious mammas in bartering for his wealth and position. 
In an otherwise comely face of aristocratic fineness there 
lurked half-hidden lines which harbored a mixed sug- 
gestion of weakness and malignity, and which seemed to 
warp his e^^es from their proper geographical position in 
the head; so that, when surprised or frankly confronted, 
he invariably sought cover by an averted glance. The 
appearance of such a face, when its owner suddenl}^ con- 
ceived that his wealth and rank were as “naught” to a 
plain, portionless country girl, can better be imagined 
than described. Nor did the old lady’s injunction to “be 
patient,” offer Christian solace to his self-indulgent nature. 
Here was at least a delay in the career of his amator^^ 
conquests, and if ardent self-denial was not dominant in 
his face, it indicated various emotions of which the tender 
passion was the least. 

By this time the storm was launched upon its wild 
career and Bengt, who had given repeated intimations of 
his purpose to depart, was compelled to remain. The 
two sat absorbed in thought while the elements raged 
without. “She careth naught for such,” and “Bengt 
Ericson must be patient,” were the howling refrain which 
seemed to mock one of the couple as the taunt of the 
surly gale, while the other, alarmed for the safety of her 
grandchild, at times started to her feet and gazed through 
the rattling casements. They attempted, at intervals, to 
resume conversation, but the continued peals of thunder, 
with gusts of wind shrieking through house and trees, 
effectually drowned their voices. At length the storm 
subsided and the guest expressed his intention to leave. 
The host, with quiet but warm hospitality, pressed him to 
remain to supper. This he declined, and, bending low 
over the old lady’s extended hand, he was bowing himself 
out, when the host, suddenly recollecting herself, ex- 
claimed; 

“Stay! and pardon, Bengt Ericson, ’tis my intention- 
yes, my purpose holds to assemble my friends — the friends 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


.31 


of the family at a dinner here at some early convenient 
day,” and the old lady standing proudly erect, continued 
with a voice and manner of gracious condescension, 
“when will it suit, perchance, the pleasure and con- 
venience of Bengt Ericson, who is one of the first of 
family friends.” 

‘ ‘ Pleazaire and convenance ! Ah ! ze Generalskan 
honaires me. I shall hav-a ze pleazaire to zoot ze con- 
venaance of ze kind host.” 

“ It shall be,” said she, placing her hand thoughtfully 
upon her brow — “it shall be — come the day after — Nay,” 
she exclaimed, suddenly checking herself, “it shall be not 
thus. Olaf, then, my farm man, he shall in manner and 
time, as will most befit, convey to Bengt Ericson the writ- 
ten scroll soliciting the pleasure of his company,” and a 
smile of proud satisfaction settled in her face, as the old lady 
felt she had bethought her of the timely and becoming 
style for maintaining the family etiquette. 

The retiring visitor, repeating his backward movement, 
renewed his glib assurances and took his departure. Just 
as he was leaving, the saturated Olaf reported himself, 
dripping from his wrecking adventure on the lake. He 
was ordered upon a hasty change of clothing, and at once 
dispatched in search of Ebba; and, half an hour later 
that young lady made her appearance. 

“ My child! ah, how late thou art. My heart e’en began to 
quake with dire forebodings. God be praised for his care 
of my girl. How, indeed, fared she in the storm?” 

“ Well, my dear grandma; oh, quite well;” and the two 
were folded with silent tenderness in each other’s arms. 
But the younger one said nothing of the timely help she 
had received, nor of the words exchanged with the helper. 
They long sat silent in the slowly deepening twilight. 
At length, Ebba was informed of the visitor who had been 
entertained in her absence, and her grandparent, cau- 
tiously approaching the subject, ventured, in a low voice, 
to say: 

“And now, my dear child, hast considered that matter 
of which I ertswhile held speech with thee ?” 

“ Concerning that old man, grandma?” 

“ Nay, my child, speak not disrespectfully of one so 
nobly connected: neither call one old who yet scarcely 
vergeth upon middle life.” 


32 . 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


“ If his years be not many, yet is he old e’en before his 
time; old and outworn of heart he seemeth ever to me.” 

“Such language grieveth me. My dear Ebba, my 
earnest desire it is to see my child settled in life e’en 
while I live. I then could die in peace.” 

“ Speak not of dying, my grandma; nor yet of that — 
that miserly, that mean, that wick — 

“ Child ! why thus wilt thou speak of a gentleman of 
high family and much wealth?” 

“ Shabby gentility hath he, but is he yet no true gen- 
tleman, still less a true man. Not being such, what sig- 
nify his riches ?’ ’ 

“ But consider, my child, the advantages of such an al- 
liance. For such should we yield somewhat of mere per- 
sonal preference. But withal surely hath Bengt Ericson 
much elegance of manner. Most do think him as hand- 
some a man as e’er was seen in the politest days of yore; 
and knows’t not that he is of the noble stock of Vasa ?” 

“ I know he is mean and wicked.” 

“ How know you this, my child ?” 

“ Know it, my grandma ? The first have I seen ; the 
last I feel.” 

“ A fancy my Ebba — a girlish whim only.” 

“ Nay, grandma, dear, that true monitor, e’en my own 
heart, so telleth me. ” 

‘ ‘ E’en that sorely mocketh — the prayerful heart hath 
good anchorage, but at best it oft doth guide falsely. 
And, oh, my child, do consider well. Take due time, and 
when thou art less excited, reflect calmly upon this appor- 
tunity to become fixed for life in a position of rank and 
wealth such as well becometh your family lineage.” 

“Now and ever, grandma,” exclaimed Ebba, the hot 
blood rushing to her cheeks — “once for all I reject this 
man, his rank and his riches, e’en before they be offered. 
E’en to parley is to play the hypocrite. I’ll none of him ! 
I hate, I loath the sight of — ” 

“Silence, child! Such language will I not hear.” 
Her anger was kindling, and the old lady dreading the en- 
counter she well knew must come from a clash of natures 
so similar, curbed herself and after a pause simply added : 

“ Well, well, we will not now speak more of this.” And 
to further divert their attention the old lady at once re- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


33 


newed the subject of the proposed dinner party which had 
already formed the subject of busy consultation. Although 
much fatigued with the day’s events they entered ^ealous- 
ly at that late hour upon the various plans and purposes 
to be duly considered. Ebba, with a woman’s instinctive 
gauge of opportunity, resolved that Halvor should be one 
of that dinner party should he not have departed upon his 
mission to London': but she anticipated stern opposition 
from her strong-willed grandparent, and she sat long pon- 
dering the matter, before venturing to broach the subject. 
When after skillful manoeuvering the young girl at length 
brought about the auspicious opening, she met the ex- 
pected opposition in full armed readiness for the contest. 

“ No, child, ” persivSted the veteran, “ not at all. Did I 
not erstwhile and oft refuse such requests. Why wilt thou 
persist in herding with these common folk. Must my 
Ebba ever take part and lot with obscure people ? Hath 
she no proper pride in the family name ? what know’st 
thou verily of this young man ?” 

“ What know I ? Why, grandma, well I do know — that 
is I hear — why surely I — ’ ’ but when the young woman 
came to definitely specify her knowledge of the young 
man she found that beyond her lately acquired informa- 
tion touching Halvor’s appointment to the London Em- 
bassy, which she proudly withheld, her store of facts was 
quite limited, and that she had mistaken her womanly in- 
tuition for solid information. While in drawing upon this 
exhaustless fountain the young girl doubtless reached 
quicker and truer results than are attained by the clumsy 
processes in ordinary use, this course does not usually 
commend itself to parental approval in social classifications. 
But all the same Ebba carried her point and the contest 
of strong wills subsided into gentle converse, in which the 
endearing “ du ” of sweet Swedish talk came into fre- 
quent use. Then after the smothered “dear, dear,” and 
the quiet embrace true and tender, the two bade each 
other the Northman’s fare-thee-well and went to their 
rest. 


3 


34 


Ebb a Borjcsofi. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The next morning the ladies were up betimes, and soon 
were again in busy consultation respecting the intended 
party. Family supplies were reviewed, table appoint- 
ments inspected, and household arrangements generally 
discussed. At times Helga was summoned from her do- 
mestic duties to give aid and information, and even Kama, 
the humbler maid, did not wholly escape consultation. So 
passed most of the day, and long before its close it be - 
came evident that an early visit to Stockholm would be 
necessary to obtain needed articles and replenish family 
supplies for the great event. 

“Upon such a mission,” said the grandmother, “my 
Ebba shall go ; so much we think e’en now past perad- 
venture; not so the when and how, for these do wait upon 
time and wind,” and as she spoke the old lady cast her 
eyes much about for weather indications. 

“The flag on rock Look-Out showeth perverse winds, 
else Olaf should haul out the lugger.” 

“ Nay, my grandma, no need to take Olaf from his work. 
The morrow may show breezes fairer, when I can e’en 
alone scud away in the yacht.” 

‘ ‘ More fitting that Olaf row thee down in the skiff. 
Dare I trust — ’ ’ The old lady suddenly checked herself ; 
she gazed through the window ; the effects of the recent 
storm lay wildly heaped before her, and her thoughts went 
back to that stormy parting with Ebba’s wayward 
brother, and the stormier war of the elements which seemed 
to have borne away the mad boy as effectually as though 
death had seized him. Was he in very truth dead ? Was 
it an estrangement to end in reunion only in the last 
home? Had her own sternness — her over-reproof barred 
an earthly return of the wanderer ? She shook her head 
and something like a sob was checked by the circling of a 
round arm about the venerable waist. 

“Nay, grandma dear, why the doubt ? Dost forget thy 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


35 


Bbba was born on Telje-viken ? Hath vShe not daily felt 
its breath and seen its waters t And shall not e’en the 
child of the fjord trust herself upon its bosom? Fears she 
neither fjord nor lake.” 

” Take Olaf with thee. Woe’s me, I do but quake since 
yesterday’s storm.” 

‘‘Which did spill Olaf in the lake. Fear naught, 
my grandma. Forgettest who was victor in the keel 
tournament? Why with such badge I would not fear 
a match e’en with Dalecarlian boat girls!” 

‘‘Take Helga : take Kama; take both,” persisted 
the anxious grandparent. 

‘‘Nay, nay, they would but hamper. Why, who 
forsooth should safely ride the waves if not a descendant 
of the sea-rovers? Dos’t question the blood? 

‘‘ Well, well, child. We will e’en see what the morrow 
may bring forth.” 

The morrow brought forth rain — a three days’ steady 
pour, which compelled a postponement of the voyage. 
During its darkened persistence the two ladies busil}" 
consulted as to the list of persons to be invited to the 
party, as well as prepared the invitations : but even before 
this task was completed they began to grow restive, 
and anxiously watched the skies. As these at tiriies 
seemed to brighten the prophetic Olaf was duly consulted, 
but only with repeated disappointment. Finally toward 
evening of the third day the veteran Generalskan, con- 
fident that she discerned favorable omens, sent out some- 
what imperiously demanding confirmation from the 
inexorable Olaf. That weather-wise, if not all-wise 
man-of-all-work still shook his head at the presumption of 
even a Generalskan in judging of the weather. But 
in half an hour he hastened to the door to direct attention 
to Rock Look-Out : 

“ See that veerin’ streamer, ” he exclaimed, ‘‘ and the 
east wind sure goeth south about : and now look ye 
o’er the fjord — yon western skies lifts their cloud apron 
from the tree-tops to make a clean couch for the sun. 
’Twill be a clear day the morrow; Olaf’s solemnest 
word on’t.” 

This settled it : nobody throughout that region dared 
doubt the Generalskan’ s knowing drang upon that 


36 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


subject. All preparations were joyfully made that even- 
ing and next morning the obedient sun rose into a 
cloudless sky and a gentle breeze came from the west. 
Olaf had baled and overhauled the yacht : and after an 
early breakfast Ebba seated herself in the stern and 
pushed out of the little inlet into the fjord. It was 
a sweet June morning. Everything looked clean and 
fresh after the long rain. Each day of the hastening 
season had newly tinted the deepening green of the 
wooded-isles ; each day their rocky masses were more 
hidden under the thickening foliage. Feebly struggled 
the pale leaved birch among the dominating evergreens, 
and more and more the long level limbs of the larch, the 
hanging branches of the Norway spruce, the darkly 
vigorous fir, the over-topping pine crowded upon solitary 
oaks struggling for a foothold among granite bowlders. 
Ebba thought she had never seen Dame Nature riot in 
gayer mood, and as the rippling waves, the swaying 
branches, the darting swallows, the leafy odors chorused 
the gladness of summer, the heart of the young girl 
swelled as never before with the simple joy of existence. 

Up the winding fjord she gaily glided, and upon rounding 
into the lake she took a more easterW course which car- 
ried her before the freshening breeze. Around jutlands 
and through winding channels Ebba sped on faster among 
the thickening islands. On these as well as on the bold 
mainland shore on her right she caught glimpses of cot- 
tages and mansions peeping from the trees. Far in front 
over woodland and water the Kungsholm quarter at length 
began to appear ; then after sweeping past more islands 
she rounded Langholm on the right, when the whole city 
burst into view, smiling from the lap of fair forest high- 
lands ; and over all the new church of St. Catharine looked 
from its lofty perch on Mosebacke. 

Landing before noon at the Ridderholmen, Ebba paused 
a moment at its ancient church so sacred in historic me- 
mentoes, and then hurried on to the open market place 
where bonders in their brightly varied dresses were engaged 
in animated traffic. Then she pushed on past St. Ger- 
trude’s church and ancient Storkyrkan and, continuing up 
the Stad to its highest point, stood before that old Royal 
Palace which sixteen years after was destroyed by fire. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


37 


Gazing with, curious interest at this ancient structure, 
Ebba hastened over to Sodermalm and up the Mosebacke 
to call upon the Countess B. pursuant to the Generalskan’s 
special desire. The Countess was absent for the day but 
was expected home in the evening. Feeling that with so 
much to be done, time was precious, Ebba returned to the 
central city where most of the shops were then concen- 
trated. Among these she busied herself in pursuit of her 
several errands and later in the day entered a rather 
isolated establishment to make a purchase. 

As the goods were being gathered into a bundle she 
noticed a man in an uncouth winter garment sitting near 
by her. Contrary to the polite custom prevalent in Stock- 
holm, this man instead of removing his hat upon entering 
the store, had kept it firmly upon his head, and from time 
to time drew it down and leaned forward as if to conceal 
his face. In reply to the shopkeeper’s enquiry, Ebba 
directed him to leave the goods at the residence of the 
Countess, subject to the order of Mamsell Ebba Borjeson. 

The strange man started, lifted his hat and glanced 
quickly at Ebba, then instantly resumed his averted atti- 
tude as if desirous of escaping attention. Shrinking from 
the man’s stealthy gaze, Ebba turned away and soon left 
the shop without further thought of the occurrence. She 
had gone but a short distance before she heard footsteps 
behind her which seemed measured by her own. She felt 
conscious of being watched. When she stopped the foot- 
steps ceased ; when she walked on, the steps were resumed. 
With quickened pulses she hurried rapidly forward for a 
time, and then as if to test the matter, suddenl}' stopped to 
gaze at a displayed shop window. The footsteps again 
approached and soon the rough-coated man she had left in 
the shop went by casting furtive looks as he passed. 

Ebba was not a timid young lady but she could not help 
feeling a little disturbed at the thought of being followed 
by a strange man. Hesitating a moment as to her proper 
course, she resolved not to be deterred from her allotted 
duties and so passed on to another shop to make her final 
purchase. As she proceeded she passed her follower who 
was standing partially hidden behind a projecting door- 
way, as if in waiting for her, and she had been but a few 
moments in the last stopping place before the watching 


38 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


stranger entered and stood near her at the counter, as if to 
make a purchase. If Ebba had indulged any lingering 
doubt as to her being followed by this man it was now dis- 
pelled. Her heart beat faster, and, as she ordered the 
desired article, she cast her eyes about and her thoughts 
busied themselves with increasing possibilities of danger. 
It was growing late ; she was unacquainted with any one 
near at hand. 

For a moment she was tempted to inform the shop- 
keeper and claim his protection, or request him to sum- 
mon the police. But by what right and to what end ? she 
further queried of herself. The man had done her no 
wrong that she could define ; he had not insulted or rudely 
affronted her in any way. Her pride rebelled against 
yielding to sentimental timidity or causeless fear. So, 
summoning all her native courage, she resolved that her 
maidenly pride, her womanly dignity should be her pro- 
tection if any were needed. She turned boldly and left 
the shop, but as she closed the door behind her she was 
seized with the instinctive idea of trying, as a precaution, 
to throw her pursuer off her scent. 

Turning at first in a direction the reverse of that leading 
to her destination she walked deliberately on till she came 
to a corner of a crossing street. Into thi§ she quickly 
turned, and with hastening steps soon turned again nearer 
the direction she wished to go. The movement robbed 
her of the calmness of mood she might otherwise have 
maintained. Her heart beat quicker and she felt hers elf 
impelled every moment with growing excitement. After 
thus pushing on for a time with flushed cheeks and has- 
tening speed, she ventured to look behind her, and seeing 
no one in pursuit she began to breathe more freely. 

With less need of haste Ebba walked more slowly and 
with returning composure she began to feel secure from 
her pursuer, when upon turning into the street leading to 
the home of the Countess B. she felt herself suddenly 
seized by the wrists and held firmly as in a vise. With 
a wild shriek she struggled vainly in the man’s firm grasp. 

“ Unhand me, sir!” she cried. “Wretch, how dare 
you ? Help, help !” 

“ Oh, don’t scream,” cried the mufded pursuer who held 
her. “F’ear nothing: thou art safe. ’Tis I — ’tis thy 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


39 . 

brother Arvid !” The disguises at the same instant were 
thrown off and Kbba gazed into an open manly face with 
strong lines and firm mouth, in which, with a puzzled stare 
she beheld half familiar lineaments which had an expres- 
sion so elusive and far away, that they seemed divided be- 
tween dreams and childish memories. With a fixed stare 
her eyes were riveted to the face: memory and emotion 
struggled confusedly with feelings strained by a sudden 
shock: her brain reeled, she grew deathly pale and she 
feebly heard the words, ‘ ‘ My little sister, oh my Ebba, 
dear,’’ as she fainted in her brother’s arms. She lost 
consciousness only a few moments, but Arvid was unfa- 
miliar with the phenomenon, and becoming alarmed he 
sought to rouse her. “Thank God!’’ he exclaimed, as 
Ebba presently opened her eyes. “ O, this day of joy !’’ 

“ And now, little one, would’st have proof ’tis thy 
brother here holds thee, — query of me anything thou 
can’st recall from thy girlish da^^s. Remember’ st the 
savage dog that flew at my Ebba, and the scar Arvid got 
when he fought and slew the beast ? Here is that scar. 
Dost remember thy missing doll* which the pet raven 
carried to the top of Tower Rock and how thou did’st 
grieve for the stolen treasure ? Here is the broken finger 
which it cost Arvid to scale the cliff when he brought 
back thy toy pet. And the Generalskan, our dear 
grandma, doth she live — is she — ?” 

“ Nay, I know well,’’ returned Ebba softly, resting her 
head upon the other’s shoulder, “ that this is my brother 
Arvid. The \"oice, the touch, nay, every moment my con- 
firming heart renews to me the dear brother of my child- 
hood. As I hear thy talk, I see again the play house we 
made under the shade of Druid Jarl, and the, snow man 
you set up in the cow house to frighten Olaf. I remem- 
ber how Arvid held me in his lap to sled down the hill — 
how he took me in his boat to sail on the fjord, and how 
he bore me over the spring flood in his strong arms. Oh, 
those merry days ! But, Arvid dear, whence and how came 
you? Oh, where in all these weary years has Arvid lived, 
and how ? My brother shall tell me all?’’ 

“All! my sister, but not now or here. ’Tis enough 
for the moment to know that this much has come of all — 
that I have thee by my side and can look into the eyes 


40 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


that have kindly haunted me in foreign lands. God only 
knows how, awake and in dreams, in joy and in trouble, 
I have longed for a sight of that little sister whom I love 
better than my heart’s blood — that sister who e’en in 
childhood had a heart to feel and a soul to dare. 
Oh, how often has her remembered smile softened my 
wrath — her sweet image turned me from evil ways. 
Had life nothing behind — were this its end on earth, I 
had not lived in vain to see this hour, for which I have so 
yearned, so prayed. 

“Brother mine !’’ softly breathed Ebba as her whole 
being thrilled to the warmer hand pressure. 

“ Yes ! I have thee here. Eyes and heart deceive me 
not : this is veritably my Ebba. And to think she tried 
to balk her brother — fled from him.’’ 

‘ ‘ Because she thought him a great bear which pur- 
sued to devour. As such I fled from — ’’ 

There was some commotion and outer}' in the street. 
Arvid quickly resumed his cast-off disguise. 

“ In my joy little I bethought me of this exposure. 
Let us leave this o’er public place. Detection might e’en 
yet prove — ” 

“Oh, my brother, with all the changes — after all these 
years, can’st thou still be in danger?” 

“ I thought not so till the other day I chanced to over- 
hear the talk of two men sitting near me in a lunch-house. 
I knew them not, but one of them was surely near of kin 
to G — , and it made my flesh creep to hear how they kept 
alive their schemes of bloody revenge. That was e’er 
known as a most vengeful family whose wrath was rather 
nursed than appeased by time. Blood by hand and by law 
they still seek.” 

‘ ‘ But my brother was guilty of no real crime — he took 
not life wilfully, with intention ?” 

“ In the eye of God, no I — in that of man I know not, 
perchance yes. Oftener than we know we are acquitted 
of the one and amenable still to the other.” 

‘ ‘ Of the unhappy event I have but the confused and sad 
impressions of a child. Arvid at his good will shall tell it 
me,— all, all.” 

“ Even now an’ we find here first a fitting place.” 

They had been walking away from the thronged streets 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


41 


and now seated themselves in a secluded spot along the So- 
dermalm shore. The still lingering sun slanted his bloody 
rays upon the isle-studded lake and stained the wooded 
heights above them as Arvid poured into his sister’s half- 
reluctant ears the sad story of the neighborhood broil 
which had robbed her girlish years of her fond brother’s 
company ; how a strong, brutal fellow, the terror of the 
country-side, had wantonly beaten a half-crippled bo}" and 
how Arvid upon interceding for the helpless victim had 
been felled with a club, and how, when blinded with rage 
and pain, he was about to receive another blow while yet 
prostrated, when he seized a woodman’s ax and cut down 
his cruel assailant ; how only this final act and not the 
whole disturbance had been witnessed by most of those 
tardily arriving on the spot ; how these had passionately 
accused him and refused to hear the whole truth — thus 
causing bitter strife between his enemies and his friends ; 
how the Generalskan, with her lofty sense of honor and 
wounded family pride, listening to false accusers, became 
frenzied with rage and bitterly upbraided her grandson as 
a shameless despoiler of the family’s stainless name ; how 
he, when the old lady, refusing to hear his defence, had 
ordered him on his knees for confession and repentance ; 
how this, inflaming his own hot blood, had caused him to 
bid her defiance, when she cursed and forever banished 
him from the house ; how he left home amid a fearful 
night storm and secreted himself until he found passage on 
a vessel which sailed for America ; how there, after many 
adventurous trials, he had prospered enough to feel able 
to return to Sweden, thus at last realizing his long-cher- 
ished desire to behold that little sister who was the only 
living creature whose love had clung to him through all. 
Not all the story was told that first evening by the lake 
shore, for before its conclusion they heeded the admonish- 
ing darkness, and, fixing a time and place for a meeting 
on the morrow, the brother and sister separated for the 
night. 


42 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER YII. 

Hurrying away after parting with her brother, Hbba 
found it difficult to collect her thoughts. Half-dazed with 
the fatigue and excitement of the day, she tried in 
vain to so arrange events in her mind as to admit of a 
calm review of the situation. Could it be possible that so 
much had been crowded into a single day? As she 
thought of the joyous sail of the early morning — the busy 
street excursions from shop to shop — the adventure with 
the supposed ruffian — the sudden revulsion of feeling from 
terror to joy — the story of the bloody event which had 
darkened her childish memories and the wanderings and 
return of her long lost brother — it was difficult not to be- 
lieve it all a dream. As the result of her experiences she 
found herself growing faint with the repeated demands 
upon her strength and sympathies ; and she was glad 
e nough when she at length reached the house of her 
friend, the Countess B. That lad}' had been duly apprised 
of her arrival in Stockholm and was beginning to grow 
anxious at her non-appearance. 

Ebba received a warm reception, was ushered into a 
tasteful apartment and was at once made to feel at home 
in one of those charming abodes of graceful and quiet 
luxury which have ever characterized Swedish residences 
of the better class. The young girl was indeed no stranger 
there. She had many times experienced its refined hos- 
pitality. The family of the Countess B. had long been 
intimate with that of the old Generalskan and though the 
two were not related by blood they were bound by the 
clOvSest ties of common sympathies and ideas. Ebba felt it 
would be safe enough to confide to such a friend the 
secret of her brother’s return ; but for the present she 
thought it wiser to keep it to herself. She had yet seen 
little of Arvid and knew still less of his purposes or 
wishes, and until she learned more of these and especially 
of any dangers which might menace hirp, her womanly 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


43 


iiitiiitio:! enjoined entire silence upon the subject. With- 
out this or any special subject there was little difficulty in 
conversing with the kind hostess. The countess had rare 
conversational powers ; there was much to be spoken of 
between them, and Ebba so felt the insinuating manner of 
her entertainer that she was more than once half tempted to 
divulge a secret which she began to feel might become a 
serious burden. This impulse toward prompt and entire 
candor she would not have resisted had she then suspected 
the footing of cordial sympathy which had long subsisted 
between the Countess and her brother ; for although noth- 
ing more than close friendship would have been confessed 
by either party, it was one of those well-based intimacies 
which are peculiarly liable to ripen into warmer relation- 
ships. As it was, fearing that she might yield to the temp- 
tation, Ebba pleading fatigue, before long retired for the 
night. 

For a time the thronging emotions of the eventful day 
kept Ebba awake. Her thoughts grew busy with hopes 
and schemes for her brother’s happy exoneration from 
blame for his act — for his reconciliation with the dear 
grandmother, and with divers family re-adjustments for 
a sunnier future. But in the most glowing period of 
her imaginings, when she felt most impatient to start 
them into realization, the claims of a young, healthy 
but tired nature asserted themselves and she sank into a 
sound and refreshing sleep. When she awoke the 
sun was sailing high in the heavens. She sprang from 
her bed with an alarmed sense of being late for the 
appointment with her brother ; but away from familiar 
surroundings at home she had forgotten how long the sun 
now rose before the ordinary day’s duties began, and she 
soon found that not only the warm lunch which would 
now be brought to her in her chamber, but the more sub- 
stantial breakfast at a latter hour must come before the 
appointed time for meeting her brother. It seemed a 
long time to wait. She grew impatient and dreaded any 
detention or hindrance which the politeness of the Coun- 
tess might suggest. But, at length, after skilfully thwart- 
ing that lady’s tender of company, Ebba set forth alone to 
the appointed spot and in a little while was rejoined by 
her brother. 


44 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


For greater secrecy and to enable Arvid to dispense 
with his disguising garments they found a secluded hiding 
place in some underbush by the side of a crooked lane 
near the old windmill on the steeps of Mosebacke. Here 
the brother resumed the story of his exiled life in America 
and the two recalled the events and experiences which 
had been interwoven into the make-up of their respective 
lives since their early separation. Of course, this led in 
time to the affairs of the present and the plans and pros- 
pects for the future. 

‘ ' I scarce formed any fixed plans when I left 
America,” said Arvid. “ My first and chiefest purpose was 
to feast my eyes upon my. sister — to feel once more the 
throb of her true heart ; after that I little know or care 
what ; but upon that I was so intent that I could ne’er 
think of her but as the little black-haired, blue-eyed girl I 
left behind me. I ne’er bethought me of her growing to 
be a big girl, or that years might make me share the 
brother’s rights with one claiming her as his wife. The 
growth is too plain for dispute ; how about the other 
change ? Must I prepare,” queried he, roguishly patting 
her cheeks, “ for divided empire over these? Is she on the 
way to wifely bliss, or is she free?” 

” No bird in these trees is freer in fact or fancy. But 
oh, my brother, speak e’en now — thou must not — thou 
can’ St not leave us ? Thou hash not seen, thou wilt see — 
our dear grandma ? 

“ Can I, dare I ? I reckoned and mused o’er the chances 
on the voyage hither and thought to determine my course 
by what I should find. I hoped to find the old feud for- 
gotten and the actors in it forgiven. I find them nursing 
still the olden enmity. I find grandmother lives. Is her 
ire toward me dead? Has her scornful pride died, or 
will she couple pardon with confession? I ask only jus- 
tice ; I will take no less. Will she grant more to others, 
and denv so much to her own flesh and blood ? Will 
she—” 

‘‘Nay, my Arvid, speak not harshly of our grandma. 
She hath sorely suffered — nay, borne most grievous bur- 
dens.” 

“ Hath she spoken with thee of the matter?” 

‘‘ Nay, ’tis a forbidden subject at our home. No one 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


45 


there dare mention thy name in her presence. I do re- 
member once a few years after you left us when I was yet 
a child and there was a match at leaping and a test of 
strength on the lawn, some one in applauding a feat, 
chanced to say it was e’en worthy the raging Arvid. 
Instantly came an infuriated outburst from grandma. She 
seemed like to choke with some mad utterings. Her face 
turned white ; her eyes flashed Are ; her gaze grew rigid, 
and but for timely soothings she would have fallen victim 
to some strange convulsion. Since that time none have 
spoken thy name in her hearing. But within a j^ear or 
two she hath much changed and many times of late she 
hath fallen into long musings from which she starts as upon 
surprise, and more than once when so found I fancied I 
did hear thy name gently murmured as in p^ading.” 

“ Oh, could I but hope that aught could be done by per- 
suasion — by filial devotion — by proofs of my better life 
abroad, I could brave danger alike from public law and 
private foe, and might e’en dream of a life of peace and 
joy in my native land. Knoweth our grandma whither I 
fled and where I have lived, or e’en whether I be dead or 
alive ?” 

“ Knowledge she cannot have, but she cherishes ever 
a firm conviction that my brother went to America, to 
which country she hath a rooted aversion as a dark and 
howling wilderness, which e’en, perchance, hath swallowed 
up her wandering Arvid. But whether she thinks him 
alive or dead, thou shalt judge when I tell thee how pain- 
fully she was reminded of thy departure by our late storm 
in which I — ” 

“The storm!” interrupted Arvid. “How strange! 
That storm did recall to me also the howling night I fled. 
Worse storms have often o’ertaken me in New Sweden : 
strange, that of the fewer seen in the father-land, two of 
the fiercest e’er known should have raged on the night I 
left and on the day I returned to my home neighborhood. 
But thy pardon, sister. Say on about our grandma.” 

“In the last gale, I too was caught went I went to 
bring the herd from the pasture : and Olaf, who was cap- 
sized on the lake, tells me that when he reached the house 
he found our Generalskan in sore distress from the blow 
and that she bade him hurry to my rescue. And, mark 


46 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


you this, my brother, for it has much affected me — Olaf 
feels sure that after gran-dma’s parting injunction to him, 
she strode about with a troubled air and wildly muttered 
something about her having in such a storm lost one of 
her jewels and besought Heaven to spare her the other.” 

” And this, with what preceded and followed ?” 

‘ ‘ Argues surely the coming of the kindlier and gentler 
emotions of the dear grandma which have long seemed 
smothered under her o’er stern sense of justice.” 

And so the brother and sister long continued to talk of 
the matter which filled their hearts. In its varying phases 
the subject inspired them with alternating hope and fear. 
But life was young and so full of promise that they could 
hope only for the best. After much discussion and a 
frank interchcinge of thoughts and plans, it was agreed 
that both should endeavor to learn what witnesses of the 
old fray could yet be found to testify to the justifiable nature 
of Arvid’s act, and that while the brother should seek le- 
gal counsel touching the chances of his standing a suc- 
cessful trial, the sister should watch her opportunity and 
cautiously sound the Generalskan as to the possibility of 
pardon and reconciliation. 

Their talk had been growing low and earnest an^l 
now gradually subsided to silence. While thus musing 
Ebba sat lovingly scanning the form and features of her 
brother. In their absorbing re- union she had not 
specially remarked his manly beauty. While scarcely 
above medmm stature he had a muscular physique and a 
commanding presence. His large head was crowned 
with a mass of light brown hair, and from under a broad 
walled forehead looked forth a pair of brightly soft 
eyes of varying expression. In the fiery strength of 
the face was plainly readable the character of the 
grandmother, while in its kindlier expression and the 
gentler lines of the mouth, Ebba saw what she fancied 
were marked traces of their father. In his whole 
m^ke-up the sister felt herself in the presence of one of 
those large natures who are liable to err rather from 
strength than weakness of character. 

Appointing the time and place for a future meeting the 
brother and sister emerged from the dense undergrowth 
and sauntered along the lane. Ebba had enjoined 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


47 


patience upon her brother, as she thought it inadvisable 
to risk broaching the matter to their grandma until 
after the contemplated dinner party, upon which the old 
lady had set her heart. 

“ Be it so, my sister : I could bide time unlimited were 
it not for this irksome disguise wherein I must skulk 
abroad. My free life in the wilderness hath all unfitted 
me for such loathsome fetters. Speed the day when I 
may walk forth openly, a free man among men. But ’ere 
I resume my disguise, once more, my Ebba, to these 
unfettered arms.” 

They were warmly folded in a parting embrace and 
then hastened away in opposite directions. Little as 
they suspected it their actions were observed ; and the 
same pair of eyes which saw this tender parting had 
seen the loving attitude of the previous day on the city 
street. Nor were the emotions of the affectionate 
actors however pure and unselfish, so passionately in- 
tense as those of their watcher. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Halvor Mondahl, upon parting from Ebba after the re- 
cent storm, strode away to the horse he had left hitched to 
a tree. The impatient animal greeted him with pawing 
feet. At that particular moment, at least, the horse better 
knew his own mind and better heeded its calmer dictates 
than did his master. Yet the latter probably knew neither 
more nor less of himself, his status, his intentions, than do 
most young men similarly situated. He had not sought 
Ebba with the distinct purpose of declaring his love for 
her. She filled his vision as yet and blocked his way to 
another attachment, but he was not conscious of being as 
yet helplessly caught by the tender passion. 

Naturally enough he was elated with his foreign ap- 
pointment, and in his youthful exuberance he sought to 
share his gladness with the girl with whom he was most 
pleased ; and in his glowing hopes he had faith enough to 
take all chances, not unaccompanied with the vague de- 


48 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


sire to be borne beyond his anchorage, should fortune 
favor. He had not known how much he expected from 
these blind allurements until he was balked by the saucy 
girl. 

Nor could he certainly tell how to apportion his chagrin 
between soreness of heart and wounded vanity. What he 
keenly felt was that he had been mercilessly thwarted. 
He felt himself jilted in advance of proposal. She had 
hindered his speech and turned him from his pu poses. 
The heartless minx ! He would teach her better manners. 
He wished he had never seen her. He never zvould see her. 
He wished he was ready to sail at once upon his English 
mission, and forever escape her thralldom. He would not 
be further trifled with. Trifled with ? Had Ebba then 
really lured him with her arts ? Had she coquetted in 
speech or manner ? On the contrary, with what absolute 
honesty had she not treated him ? How persistentl}" she 
had prevented his making a fool of himself by a prema- 
ture proposal! How such a bravely just girl could love if 
she would! No, the great world contained but one such 
girl and that one he was impatient to see again. 

Then the keenness of his humiliation renewed itself and 
he would be in no haste to expose himself to her indiffer- 
ent moods. He could and would exist without her. And 
with these alternating conclusions came sundry vigorous 
expletives, while the horse’s sides and the road-side 
bushes bore evidence of the lashing emphasis with which 
the young man vented his spasmodic emotions. 

With such self conflicts Halvor reached Stockholm, and 
after a disturbed night’s sleep he came to the conclusion 
that he would have done with such torments. He was 
man enough, he hoped, to quietly suffer matters to take 
their own course, and he would busy and divert himself 
with other things. He would judge of Ebba Borjeson pre- 
cisely as he judged of other respectable females. He flat- 
tered himself he had overcome his slavish partiality for 
this particular sample of independent femininity, and he 
would like to see the woman who should again make a 
fool of him. 

In this comforting frame of mind Halvor Mondahl 
was passing from Sodermalm to the central city, when 
suddenly in the shadow of a street corner he beheld what 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


49 


cut short his breath and quickened his pulse to feverish- 
ness. It was the picture of Ebba Borjeson in the fondly 
trusted company of a stranger, who held her hands in the 
open street, and that stranger a man of remarkable hand- 
some appearance ! Could his eyes deceive him ? he stag- 
gered with his whirling senses: he was stung to the quick 
with jealousy: the green-eyed monster clutched at his 
heart with a leering squint of extra mockery. Hastily 
concealing himself, Halvor watched the couple as they 
crossed toSodermalni; then following, he saw them walk 
along the lake shore in confiding intercourse and seat 
themselves in a position of closest intimacy. There was 
the girl who with all her wilfulness, he had thought a 
model of maidenly decorum, sitting in an out-of-the-way 
place far from passers by, and alone with a man, on the 
rapid approach of darkness ! Feasting his eyes to the full 
upon the maddening sight, he tore himself away and rushed 
wildly through the streets; he could not be still for an 
instant ; he could think of nothing else and after wander- 
ing about till midnight, he spent a few sleepless hours in 
his bed, rose early and with half muttered scorn of him- 
self for acting the spy, repaired to the Sodermalm shore 
and spent hours in exploring the overlooking heights. 

Failing to find the persons he both wished and dreaded 
to see he was half tempted to venture upon a call at the 
house of the Countess B, where he kne\y Ebba sojourned 
when in the city. But persevering in his search, Halvor 
at last saw that young lady and the handsome stranger 
come out from the secluding shrubbery, and there under 
the half arching trees he witnessed their parting embrace. 

Agony unspeakable ! The very ground seemed whirl- 
ing from under him. As soon as he could replace his 
routed thoughts the whole matter grew clear enough. 

Here then was the secret of Ebba’s easy banter— the 
playful unconcern with which she treated him. With an 
accepted lover she could of course act with little constraint 
toward others. At last, then, he did know just where he 
stood with her; and the torture of the knowledge belittled 
to paltriness the mere annoyance which her seeming coy- 
ness had inflicted upon him when he thought her heart- 

And so the young man continued the, sport of an emo- 

4 


50 


Ebb a Borjcso7i. 


tional tempest whose first stress had hardly yielded to 
steadier soreness when he received his card of invitation 
to the dinner party. What did this mean ? he desperately 
queried. What new shape was his misery to assume ? Of 
course, the accepted lover would be of the party. Perhaps 
it was given as an acknowledgement and public notice of 
the engagement. 

He had scarcely before met social recognition from the 
family. Was he now summoned simply to witness the 
happiness of his successful rival ? It was a needless ag- 
gravation. His cup was already full. He would not go ! 
Human suffering had its limitation. Yet he felt a grim 
delight in nursing his own misery. Strangely enough, in 
proportion to his agony did he long to see the authors of 
it. He would have a tantalizing pleasure in their presence. 
He would gain a combatant’s stern joy in testing his own 
mettle to its direst point. Yes, he would go ! He wanted 
to see just how that girl looked. He wanted to renew her 
image in his soul and compare it with the fitful visions 
which had haunted him. Oh, he would certainly attend 
that party ! He could hardly" wait for its appointed time. 
He was not quite sure he had ever actually seen his tormen- 
tor. Pie would take another look at her if it were only to 
nerve himself to heroic self-torture — another look at the 
girl and her accepted lover — two cups of joy and misery 
complete. 


CHAPTER IX. 

The radiant northern summer hastened on. Bluer grew 
the skies and whiter the lessening clouds. Ever 3 ^where 
the varied green of field and forest deepened with the 
lengthening days,' and with ever quickening glow the sea- 
son rounded to the joyous fullness of midsummer. ^Yith 
it came the day for the great dinner party. The old lady 
was resolved that in ample cheer and ceremonial elegance 
the event should prove worthy the olden period of 
Sweden’s military glory. She was familiarly known as 
the “ Generalskan,” not alone because she had been the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


51 


wife of a gallant officer, but because she seemed a reflec- 
tion of the pride and heroism of the kingdom’s best days. 
Both as the widow of a military follower of the great Gus- 
tavus Adolphus and as a zealot against papal encroach- 
ment, she represented Sweden’s heroic share in the 
Thirty Years’ War : while in a certain martial tone and 
stateliness of bearing she seemed at once an embodied 
assertion of the kingdom’s continued position among the 
leading powers of Europe, and a sturdy protest against its 
threatened decline. 

The old family mansion had been a building of consid- 
erable pretension in its best days, but with the constantly 
declining fortunes of the family it had fallen into some 
disorder, and ordinarily was but partially occupied for 
family uses. Its fullest resources were now to be brought 
into requisition and the two ladies had exercised their in- 
genuity in making the most effective use of its neglected 
capacities for the impending occasion. 

The dwelling was a long, low structure of a dusky red 
color, occupying an upper plateau of the natural amphi- 
theatre before described. It rested upon a foundation of 
granite boulders above which was a compact layer of mas- 
sive oak logs, which in turn supported a closely knit frame- 
work with an outward covering of shingles, and pierced 
in rosaces. In the rear a turret staircase, similarly cased, 
led to the upper apartments, and long narrow casements 
extending across the dividing floor, lighted both stories. A 
roof pitching singly each way from a low central ridge ex- 
tended far over the walls and formed a porch on the long 
sides of the building, while the greater length of the upper 
stories formed projections so contrived as to answer the 
purpose of balconies at the two gables. 

The interior apartments were lined with a heavy wains- 
coting of oak, and far into the large living room there pro- 
jected that peculiarly ample three-sided open fire-place 
which was emblematic of the Northman’s hospitality. 
For from its choking pile of blazing logs went forth the 
generous warmth in all directions and by their steamy 
song of welcome the storm-stayed guest was lulled from 
fear of the wintry blasts without. In a cosy corner by its 
side were the familiar spinning wheel and old hand-mangle 
indispensable in all ancient mansions high and low, while 


52 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


in the attic over head was the family kladeskammaren, 
a plethoric wardrobe of linen and woolen clothing which 
seemed to groan with hoarded comfort. Clipboards, 
closets, sideboards and most of the furniture in all the 
apartments were constructed of the universal Swedish 
birch and they shared with the bright, clean floors in the 
shiny effects of perpetual scrubbing. 

In a recess of an adjoining apartment were gathered 
family relics and historic mementoes, including the 
broken sword and part of the armour recovered with the 
dead body of the family hero who was found by the side 
of his king on the field of Lutzen. These, with the well- 
worn family silver treasured from a long, double line of 
ancestors, were preserved in a curious piece of heavy fur- 
niture of carved oak, one half of which was used as a cab- 
inet and the other as a book-case. Dingy old volumes by 
Skandinavian authors, yellow with age and worn by use; 
kept company with recent works by Resenius, Scheffer, 
Rudbeok and others, resurrecting the then half buried 
literature of the old Norse Mythology. Here also the 
shiny, old family bible in its thick leather covering, was 
jealously guarded by some of Luther’s volumes, accom- 
panied by pugnacious writings of sundry theologians, while 
in trusting proximity lay the works of Shakespeare and 
other English dramatists, together with a few French, 
Greek and Latin volumes. In an angle opposite this 
curious heirloom, stood another, similarly quaint and 
massive in appearance, in the shape of the old family 
clock, which reached from floor to ceiling, and told out 
the seconds and hours with a solemnity unknown to the 
nervous sputtering of modern time keepers. 

Beyond the encircling ridge in the rear of the house 
were clustered hay ricks and grain stacks, together with 
sheds, wain-house and other thatched outbuildings, 
adjoining which was a garden and a small orchard of 
apple and other trees. Across the wooded 'terrace south 
of the house a winding path led down to a small lake of 
clear pure water, in the centre of which was a tiny island 
supporting a growth of elder bushes with a couple of 
birch which struggled with the encroaching limbs of a 
pyramidal larch. Among the trunks of the trees some 
rustic seats had been fastened, and around the island a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


53 


few swans at times circled in graceful and sportive move- 
ments. 

On the morning of the momentous day the General- 
skan and her grandchild sat in the front porch overlook- 
ing the fjord. All needed arrangements had been duly 
rnade and the two ladies were concluding an jearnest 
discussion upon a subject which to the elder was of the 
first importance, the solemn question of precedence. 

“Be it so, then,” said Ebba, yielding the point at 
issue, “ it shall be e’en as my grandma wishes.” 

“Nay, I wish my child could more clearly see than 
grudgingly yield in a matter of propriety so obvious.” 

“ But withal I do think it but a matter of taste — of 
personal choice. Since my grandma thinks it is so 
important I am e’en glad of what pleases her.” 

“Yet ’tis less my personal pleasure in the deference 
we show than its public importance that I set store by. 
In these leveling days people are all too heedless of the 
respect due to great family names. ” 

“But, grandma dear, how. can mere ceremony — a 
matter of semblance, not of substance, be then so impor- 
tant ?” 

“There again I grieve to say my grandchild showeth 
somewhat of the wrong ideas which seem like to turn 
the people’s heads. Knowest not that the social board is 
e’en the most sacred measure of all high honors ? About 
our dining tables cluster the sanctities of home. Whom- 
soe’er we welcome there we further exalt howe’er high 
their outward position. What place more fitting wherein 
to render honor. to whom honor is due? Were Bengt 
Ericson nothing of himself his family hath historic pres- 
tige and he stands for the highest among Sweden’s 
illustrious names. To him is due the post of honor.” 

“ Tis a borrowed honor due to his ancestors rather 
than to him. On their account if on no other I like him 
the less for not being a better man.” 

“ Personal preference my child is one thing, public 
recognition another ; if you will insist upon humouring 
the one, at least respect the claims of the other.” 

“ But, grandma, with all the deference in the world, 
public and private, Bengt Ericson could not be other than 
he is in the eye of our all-seeing Father, who is no 


54 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


respecter of persons. ’Tis after all the real man and 
true, and not the cloaked false one we should admit to 
home’s sanctities. ’Tis too bad to heap honors undeserved 
on a man so mean, so wick — ” 

“Silence, child !’’ interrupted the other, rising angrily 
to her feet. “ Dare you then — “the old lady checked 
herself and her wrath vented itself through her fiery 
eyes. Hbba met her flashes with a flushed face, but after 
the two women stood a moment glaring defiance at each 
other, the younger bowed her head and springing to the 
other’s side, said : 

“Nay, nay, I was wrong; my grandma dear is all 
aweary and I have sore fretted her,’’, and then softly 
circling the old lady’s waist she peered into her face with 
the beseeching query, 

“ Can’st. pardon again thy thoughtless girl?” 

The grandparent kissed her answer upon the fore- 
head of her young charge, and muttered something about 
the folly of an old woman in vSuffering herself to be 
unfitted for the urgent duties of the day ; then added 
energetically, 

“ We’ll have done with this all ; now to our purposes : 
send Olaf hither.” 

That busy individual presented himself and received 
his final instructions. The emergency demanded of him 
ubiquitous expansion and impossible duties. But the man- 
of-all-work had encountered such demands before and 
was not appalled. In order to simultaneously meet 
guests arriving from all directions he had already 
arranged such preliminary miracles as now won the 
unqualified approval of even the exacting General- 
skan. 

To that noble lady, standing proudly erect, the guests 
were presented as announced ; and taking in turn the warml}^ 
proffered hand, they received a gracious welcome. It was 
a warm summer afternoon ; a gentle breeze fanned the ar- 
riving guests through widely beckoning doors, and, as the 
courtly hostess softened with hospitable glow, a flavor of 
chivalrous courtesy was imparted to the truthful gravity 
of old Norse cordiality. Ushered into the most spacious 
apartment the visitors received the easier greetings -of 
Ebba, who busied herself in making all feel at home. Oc- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


55 


cupied as she was, she could not help noticing the un- 
wonted appearance of two of the guests in particular. One 
of these was Bengt Ericson, who had apparelled himself 
anew with rich and rare taste. In his brighter and simpler 
garments of costly material and quiet elegance, the man 
had so transformed himself that Ebba was at first startled 
as with a sense of doubtful identity in her salutation of 
him ; and she afterward observed what had never before 
occurred to her, that beside a certain aristocratic compres- 
sion of the lip there were faint lines and even a fitful ex- 
pression of latent beauty in a face which had always proved 
repugnant to her. 

The other noticeable guest was Halvor Mondahl, whose 
manner was unusually constrained, and whose strangely 
watchful eyes seemed both to seek and to avoid her own. 
The young man had come upon a mission of disciplinary 
self-torture. He had nerved himself to such tension that 
relaxation was not yet possible. Occupied in closely scan- 
ning the face of each arriving gentleman, he hardly heeded 
or heard the casual remarks addressed to him. The man 
he was looking for failed to appear, and with his continued 
non-arrival Halvor at last began to breath more freely, his 
bearing became less rigid by degrees, and at length his 
anxious countenance seemed to compose itself with a 
mixed expression of relief and disappointment. 


CHAPTER X. 

The momentous question of precedence having been 
happily settled, the hostess ranged her sight over the as- 
sembled guests. They were faultlessly costumed accord- 
ing to the severest requirements of the time and country. 
This the Generalskan saw with the quick, critical scrutiny 
of an officer over his marshaled ranks. But she was glad- 
dened with a kindlier feeling to see the company fast at- 
taining their ease through the unhampering conversation 
wdiich, with ready tact, was being promoted by Ebba’s 
deftly contrived change of talk and exchange of neighbor- 
ing talkers. 


56 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


The narrator modestly declines attempting a detailed 
description of the great occasion. It must suffice th at 
in the varied bounty of the preliminary smorgasbord, in 
the observance of the beautiful Swedish custom of stand- 
ing with folded hands in silent grace, in the welcoming 
formality of wine-glass-greeting separately between hos- 
tess and guest, and in the final ceremony of returning 
thanks, as well as in all other requisites during all stages 
of the entertainment there was strictest adherence to in- 
flexible ancient etiquette. 

In pursuance of an olden custom as firmly rooted as if 
it had originated among Medes and Persians, the dinner 
began not with soup, as in so many countries of Christen- 
dom, but with the solidest food, like the heavy cannonad- 
ing at the beginning of battle. Swedish soup comes in 
the middle or near the close of the repast. So here the 
guests were served with* a succession of some dozen dis- 
tinct courses, embracing all edibles known to northern 
zones, with beverages of all latitudes. Accordingly after 
due courses of beef, mutton, venison, chicken, ham with 
peas, and tongue with krout, the rich soups in steamy 
cloud caps were brought in as the triumphal apex, from 
which safely followed the descending boiled lobster, sal- 
mon, herbs, custards, fruit, cake and nameless sundries of 
viands and drinks. 

The clatter of dishes and shuffling feet of the waiters 
mingled with laughter and chat as the courses were 
served, and as the interchanging courtesies quickened, the 
animated guests with uplifted glasses at intervals, saluted 
the noble hostess and each other as well, and sally, jest, 
and repartee went round the board in ready and quicken- 
ing alternation. 

“Good friends,” at length began the ho.stess, “our 
honored guest at my right is but now come from France. 
He hath much sojourned in that bright land and ’tis but 
fitting that he give us word of the noble realm that was 
our steadfast ally in the great war, and ever Sweden’s 
friend.” 

“Bravo ! hear, h^ar,” went round the table from the 
guests, but nothing came from the much honored Bengt 
save half heard mutterings of “ plaisaire” and “honaife” 
'directed toward the hostess, while as if folding himself in 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


57 


disdainful silence he simply turned toward the company 
with a handsome grand bow and resumed his seat. 

“Ah, tell us, pray,’’ continued the Generalskan, “of the 
country that gave Richelieu to Europe— of the land of 
Conde and of Turenne, that great marshal, who at the 
last recovered some of our hard won gains of the Thirty 
Years’ War. Pardon me, friends, but when scarce six 
years agone the gallant Turenne departed this life, he 
seemed to bring the olden times e’en to the present : yes, 
speak to us of France.” 

“ Ah, hostess most kind,’’ replied Bengt, as he rose and 
looked round with an expression of mingled confusion and 
vanity, “Ze madam flattaire zo much ah zhe takes a all ze 
grran speech avay.’’ 

“ Nay, our good friend, no flattery meant I, but only 
sought what all would gladly hear, the latest word from 
the goodly kingdom. ’Twould pleasure give us surely to 
hear of the splendor which this fourteenth Louis is heap- 
ing upon Paris. Our guest hath surely seen the vast pal- 
ace at Versailles upon which such untold sums have been 
lavished. The last word brought hither betokened the 
near completion of the royal residence after its twenty 
years of building. I’st e’en so? Ah, with what vain 
pomp is puffed up this haughty king, who so liketh his 
title of ‘Grand Monarque.’ Pity ’tis that with .so many 
good parts he is withal so blind and cruel a papist ; and, 
too, with such wasteful disregard of the people’s good I 
fear me much for the future of France. Ah, well, much 
pleasanter and more it profiteth to speak of the olden 
France — of the times of the great war, when the keen- 
sighted Richelieu, papist though he was, did join hands 
with our own Oxenstiern to cripple papal Austria, through 
which our Piotestant faith was e’en saved to Europe. Ah, 
truly as our queen spake it, those were ‘honor-clad old 
men ;’ and back cometh to me that glorious epoch, an 
’twere j^esterday.’’ 

“ Back we all welcome it an ’twill rouse thy speech,” 
said Mons A — , and if our guest speak not we bespeak 
further word from our good hostess touching those days 
agone.” 

“ More, more, from our good lady,” repeated more than 
one of the eagerly listening guests. 


58 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Nay, not so,” rejoined the hostess. ” ’Twould be 
unseemly thus. ’Tis ever a privilege of the guests to 
choose and lead discourse.” 

“ Nay, dear host, we do insist. Can better entertainment 
be than to hear of heroic doings from one of the heroines 
who shared in them ?” 

A smile of pleasure softened the deep lines of the old lady’s 
face and it lighted up with the glow of fond memories 
at this invitation to recall the past in which she so much 
dwelt. 

“ Ah, then you will pardon this too easy flattery of an 
old woman’s weakness for her dear past.” 

“’Twill be our pleasure,” replied Mons A — ,“e’en as 
much as hers. And first of all, dear lady, wilt explain 
what I ne’er could comprehend — what induced our king 
Adolph to invade Germany at all. And with a force so 
small, how could he cherish other than forlorn hope? 
What did urge* him to a course so fraught with peril ?” 

“ What, indeed,” replied the old lady, “ buttrue faith in 
a righteous God and the welcoming hearts of a people be- 
trayed and oppressed for opinions’ sake. ” 

“ But ’tis said ’twas also in self-defence. How could 
such be, when our king was the invader?” 

“How? Because he was less an invader than a deliv- 
erer, who went at the request of the oppressed Germans 
to rescue them and their religion from their papal oppress- 
ors. Know you not indeed that the ambitious Wallen- 
stein had beaten back King Christian of Denmark at all 
points? know ye not of the boast of that conquering leader 
to become master of the Baltic ? know ye not of the fell 
purpose of the Austrian Ferdinand to o’erthrow all Prot- 
estant powers and wholly exterminate our faith from Eu- 
rope ? Ah, then, did not our king wisely ? Better carry the 
war into the enemies’ country with the aid of friends than 
be assailed in our own without aid. What do not we owe 
to 'Our watchful, our valiant Adolph?” 

“ Ah, e’er warmly,” said jolly Nils K., “kindleth our 
loyal Generalskan with her battle-memories. But nie- 
thinks our young company here be thinking more of love 
than war.” This aside to Mons A. 

“ Aye, aye, far more are they votaries of Venus than of 
Mars : and I dare be sworn now that conquests will here 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


59 


be made by the soft goddess as sweeping as e’er crowned 
the car of the bloody god. Do but observe,” and the wary 
Mons sidled confidingly to his listener, “the young Baron, 
how his eyes do follow the grand-child of our hostess. Do 
not those youthful orbs beseech e’en past utterance?’’ 

” Aye, but there, mark ye, will be no conquest; for see 
ye not the froken Ebba careth naught for the youth ? 
whate’er say her e^^es, the maiden’s heart is elsewhere; 
but the self-same eyes are wondrously speaking orbs e’en 
though few devine what they speak withal.” 

” It seems to me,” whispered thoughtful Lars N., ” that 
these young folk be illy coupled here; for surely this 
young Backstrom languishes e’en to faintness for the 
3^outhful Baron who seems to have eyes only for mamsell 
Ebba, while she — ” 

” Is sought ’tis said by the guest of honor here.” 

‘ ‘ By Bengt Ericson ? Whew I By the rich blase — the 
lilly-fingered — the high-born Bengt? Sued for e’en by the 
Vasa-blooded aristocrat? Can it so be then? And she — ” 

” Cannot abide him I do hear, and will none of him e’en 
though he be favored by our hostess, her grand-mother, 
whom she much reverences and obeys in all things else.’’ 

“ Whom then doth the young Ebba favor ?” 

“ That knoweth no one. ’Tis averred she has no lover, 
and curtly turns all away who would be such. Some in- 
deed do avow that she seeketh a noble alliance higher 
e’en than Bengt Ericson offers her. Others say nay, and 
’tis e’en guessed that she half harbors a secret pulse for 
the young Herr Mondahl, who will join ere long our Swe- 
dish Embassy in London.” 

” And he ?” 

“ Well, ’tis thought by most in Stockholm that he would 
wed if he could, our fair Iduna here.” 

“ Indeed ! Is it so then? she would surely make a fitter 
bride to present at the London court, for indeed ne'er was 
woman more beautiful — ne’er lady more queenly. See 
there how nobly she—” 

And instinctively the conversationists turned toward an 
oval face with a gentle suggestion of roundness, from which 
beamed a pair of dreamy blue eyes, under a crown of rich 
flaxen hair, affording a pure type of the ideal blonde. 


6o Ebba Borjesoii. 

“ ’Tis a face one sees on canvas — not oft, we think, on 
fleshly shoulders.” 

‘ ‘ And its repose seems even as unresponsive to human 
passion, an it came from painter’s fancy. Does she ne’er 
speak nor be spoken to ? But see our Mons melloweth 
with the generous cheer.” 

The conversation had fallen by degrees from a loud, 
general tone in which all could join, to the whispered re- 
marks of nearer companionship, of which a confused mur- 
mur hovered about the table. But the effects of repeated 
potations manifested themselves in spasmodic loudness of 
the male voice — especiall}' in that of the round-faced Mons, 
who was bent upon hearing further from the hostess. 

‘ ‘ But, our good lady, ’ ’ persisted he, “those same German 
friends do charge that our great Adolphus was filled with — 
boiled lobster ? Ah, yes, and it please you ; thanks, thanks, 
that matcheth all things in love and war ; but, ah, as I 
w^as saying, the Germans do aver that our king was filled 
with ambition. They agree that at the first he had only 
purest of motives, but that he did yield little by little to 
the lust of conquest, insomuch that he would e’en have 
subverted their liberties and seized their provinces for his 
own aggrandizement, but for death’s intervention. What 
think you of that?” 

“ Believe it not ! All our king’s aims and acts, first to 
last, do gainsay the ungenerous charge. Adolphus was 
too good, too unselfish a man for ignoble ambition. He 
e’er deemed himself but as an instrument of God to hum- 
bly do his work, and oft did rebuke his o’er zealous fol- 
lowers when they urged him to worldly purposes. But 
were it e’en true in part, it had been better for our Ger- 
man allies.” 

“ How then was that?” 

“ Why, think 3 ^ou but for the death of a ruler so able, 
that so cruel and wasting a conflict could have lasted for 
sixteen weary years longer? Thing you that with the 
genius of our king in war, and his master-mind in peace, 
his wise reign during life e’en as a conqueror could have 
been other than beneficial to Germany and a gain for lib- 
erty, for Europe, nay for civilization ?” 

“ Bravo !” brightly said the charming Countess B. 
“Most aptly set forth and truly as well. Indeed, a valiant 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


6i 

defender hath our pious Adolphus in our good host — a 
host in a double sense is she. No knight of chivalrous 
days e’er championed better the honor of his lady love. 
But I do confess me more a devotee of Grandfather'Vasa, 
the first Gustavus. His peasant life as a hunted fugitive 
in Dalecarlia, was e’er romance more touching — than his 
expulsion of the Danish tyrant, what more heroic ?” 

“Oh, a hero indeed was the first Gustavus. Founder 
was he alike of his kingdom and of the noble dynasty of 
Vasa, a race of valorous and most able sovereigns. ’Tis 
well-nigh ungracious to pit grandsire ’gainst grandson 
where both be regal figures in history,’’ said Lars N. 

“ But,” rejoined the Countess B., “I could ne’er quite 
forgive the second Gustavus for not clinging through all to 
his first love, to that beautiful Ebba Brahe, for whom our 
own Ebba here was worthily named. Nay, blush not, my 
friend. Loveliness is ne’er the less that it veils, not vaunts 
itself : nor is it the less winsome if more self-made than 
ready-made.” 

“The first Gustavus founded, the second inherited, a 
kingdom,” suggested some one. 

“ Inherited !” suddenly said Halvor, in a low voice, 
“Aye, preserved, improved, glorified it as well. It may 
be e’en harder to preserve than to create a kingdom. Pros- 
perity oftener mars than makes fortune. Hardship, not 
luxury, is the nursery of heroism.” 

Ebba looked up in mild surprise ; it was the first time 
the young man had spoken aloud. The grandmother’s 
surprise was more decided, and she bowed her gracious 
assent as she resumed : 

‘ ‘ Kind friends, far be it from me to abate aught from 
the just fame of Gustavus Vasa. His grateful people can 
ne’er too deeply cherish his glorious memory. Than his 
name bright honor and true faith shall not be more death- 
less ; but I do speak that which I verily know when I tell 
ye that the sweet gentleness and purity of Adolphus’ 
home life equalled his might in the field ; and to measure 
his might in the field, ’tis necessary to remember that he 
created the means to his triumphs as well as achieved 
himself those triumphs. He it was who cast aside those 
clumsy old tactics and founded in their place a new sys- 
tem. He it was who improved the muskets and quickened 


62 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


the movements of his troops, insomuch that a handful of 
our Swedes were wont to vanquish hosts of the enemy.” 

“ Of these things we had heard something, but few of 
us but will gladly learn more, of matters so weighty. ’ ’ 

“ Why, well remember I when a little lass, m5^self see- 
ing the old manoeuvres wherein was formed the line of 
battle nine files deed ; and the muskets were so heavy and 
so slow of discharge that they could not be steadied long 
enough by the arms for proper aim but had to be sup- 
ported by long iron rods planted in the ground, upon 
which to rest the pointed barrel. All this our bold king 
changed; with lighter and prompter guns his soldiers fired 
three shots while the enemy was firing one ; he displaced 
the nine files where men were e’er in each other’s wa}^ 
with the quick-moving two and three-file battle-lines, and 
he planted bodies of infantry among his cavalry to so sup- 
port each other that no charge of the enemy could rout 
our Swedes ; and the military s^^stem of all Europe hath 
e’er since been as thus established b}^ our valiant king. 
Test our Adolf by any measure, how, or as you will, his 
greatness doth appear.” 

” So, indeed, it would seem; and all true Swedes ma}^ of 
right feel proud of a fame won not less by a cool, wise 
head than a valorous great soul.” 

” My voice ne’ertheless/' said the Countess B., “is for 
the first Gustavus. But for him there had been no king- 
dom and no second Gustavus.” 

“Spoken like a woman,” quietly said Lars N., “and 
conclusive as a woman’s reason ; but my voice is for the 
king who rescued country and religion when both were in 
most peril and both were most prized.” 

“ Saved country and religion, perchance,” rejoined the 
Countess B., “ but saved not he the Countess Brahe from 
heart-sickness sore. By all true faith why married 
Adolphus with that tiresome Maria Eleanora? For 
reasons of State ? Fie, fie, love before policy, say I.” 

“What sayeth our fair friend here ? Oh ! yes, tell us 
which king prefereth Iduna ?’ ’ 

The lovely lady lifted her eyes in soft deprecation and 
gently shaking her head, sought to be excused by a look 
of such serenity as promised to merge all clash ings 6f 
opinion. But excuse her the company would not. So 


Ebb a Borjeson. 63 

with hanging head and low voice she rather breathed than 
said : 

“ Gustavus Vasa founded his dynasty: is not the 
creator greater than the creature ? Should Sweden love 
any so much as he : and should such love cool because, 
as ’tis said, he was beautiful as great and as cold as 
beautiful ?” 

“ Hear, hear : more, more! ” 

“Ah 1 I could wish indeed,” said the Countess B., 
“that so romantic a king should not alway have owed his 
rescue to unromantic old women : but my hero ne’ertheless 
is he.” 

“But the grandson,” resumed Iduna, “ filled fuller the 
world with fame. The first Gustavus it may be was 
better known at home; the second, abroad, where he 
placed our little kingdom e’en first on the nations’ roll 
of kingly honor.” 

And so the talking contest onward went with thought- 
ful phrase, with playful thrust and repartee, during which 
the non-combatants did as idle fancy dictated. Many 
times did Halvor’s stealthy glances seek Ebba’s face as 
fearing detection, and hardly less fugitive were the 
thoughts of the young lady, for it was plain enough that 
beyond what was due to common politeness she gave little 
heed to the young Baron at her side, who sought by per- 
sistent flattery of glance and speec . to gain favor in her 
sight. How peacefully serene her withdrawn mood 
seemed to Halvor! No wonder, he thought, her mind is 
upon her absent lover ; and that brings her sweet and 
dreamful quiet amid all surrounding distractions. Charm- 
ing he had thought her, if a little wanton, in the saucy 
freedom of her disengaged heart ; but in this richer grace 
of the maturing woman — in this exaltation of her requited 
love, how inexpressibly winsome 1 A withering pain 
seized his heart. At one moment he longed to throw 
himself at her feet ; at another, lost as she was to him, 
there was nothing he could not do and dare for her sake. 
And yet — with -this strangely human heart of his — he was 
not quite sure even now, whether if she could be 
wholly his, he was yet prepared to accept the overmaster- 
ing gift as his quota of happiness complete. Tossed thus 
upon counter currents ; feeling it hard of fate that he must 


64 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


suffer pangs of jealousy without the bliss of love; feeling 
it both good and painful to be there, he was angry with 
himself and felt disposed to quarrel with the chance that 
kept Ebba’s lover away and prevented his more decided 
self-torture. 

The unconscious cause of this introspection had her 
own musings. More than once she caught herself 
strangely enough scanning the features of Bengt Ericson 
on the opposite side of the table; and, after all, she could 
not wonder at the admiration which her grandmother and 
others felt for the man ; for now she saw how really hand- 
some he was, or would be if his character would give his 
face a chance. With what classical subtlety the lines of 
his scornful lip harbored the mean pride of his selfish 
nature. This indeed seemed measured in degree by the 
chiseled precision of the handsome lower face; and the 
more her discovery of his obscured good looks the stronger 
grew her repugnance to the man. It was while indulg- 
ing in one of these observing reveries that Ebba Borjeson 
was suddenly caught by the haughty Bengt with her eyes 
fastened upon him. Quickly turning away she encount- 
ered at the same instant the half enquiring gaze of Halvor 
fixed moodil}^ upon her. The double surprise brought the 
blood to her cheeks and perhaps some puzzled feeling to the 
two gentlemen, including that of self-complacency on the 
part of the elder suitor. But relief from embarrassment 
quickly came by the cry of “ Halvor! Halvor! let us hear 
from our future young delegate to London.’’ The young 
man shook his head negatively. 

“ Nay, nay,” repeated several voices at once, “ we will, 
— we mnst\v^2iX which king then chooses Halvor Mondahl.” 
Still he declined, lowering his eyes in modest refusal. 
Then the cries were repeated and the clamor increased 
for the voice of “the young attache,” ending with a sort of 
detached echo from Bengt Ericson for the opinion of “ ze 
young ministaire diplomateeque,” the last words being 
hissed out in a covert sneer. Thus urged, the young man 
in a hesitating but steady voice replied; 

“My kind friends, while I cannot but feel flattered at 
your call upon me, I am loath to speak of a matter of 
which I scarce feel competent to form a just opinion. To 
me it e’er seems that noble motives mark the good man — 


Ebb a Borjeso n. 65 

lucky deeds the famous one — and all together waiting 
upon high capacity, the great man.” 

” Hear, hear, bravo !” ran round the table with inter- 
mingled cries of ‘ ‘ the young philospher ! more from him — 
further from Halvor Mondahl!” 

Only two persons observed the proud, glad look that sat 
for an instant in Kbba’s face ; and these two derived quite 
opposite emotions from the observation. 

“And since all these essentials,” continued Halvor, 

‘ ‘ distinguished the career of the two kings, little cause I 
see for e’en playful rivalry of contesting admirers. More- 
over, the Charles who reigned between these kings and 
the two succeeding them, are not unworthy the family 
name and fame.” 

The dignity of the grand hostess was almost endangered 
as that delighted lady fairly clapped her hands at what 
promised a pleasant termination of the discussion ; but a 
stealthy scowl only shot from the cavernous eyes of the 
honored guest at her side. 

■” True enough,” remarked one of the elderly guests, “for 
the Tenth Charles, as I do remember crossed the Great 
Belt on the ice and did dictate peace e’en at the gates of 
Copenhagen.” 

“Aye, a feat of arms, that,” said the observant Lars, 

‘ ‘ ne’er surpassed in military daring or wisdorn by either 
Gustavus : one worthy the Vasa blood.” 

“The blood!” repeated the merry Mons, flushed to 
warmer currents of body and humor, “ yes, yes, as — as I 
know — as — as — everybody knows ’tis all in the blood.” 

“ ’Tis somewhat in the blood,” replied Lars, ‘‘that 
blood that e’en in our reigning Charles we may venture to 
commend ; for though our late mischances sore threaten 
the military glory of our Sweden, peace at home may be 
e’en more truly victorious than war abroad : and now if 
our present king shall settle these long pending troubles 
between noble and peasant he may prove greatest victor 
of all.” 

“Bah,” scowled Bengt Ericson, “I vould zeddle ze 
droobles by zettling ze peasants zemselves — vid ze bit and 
lash : I vould teach ze boors zare places vid ze strong arm. 
Zeese people, ah, zey care nothing for ze rank, for ze high 
blood, eh!” 

5 


66 


Ebb a Boijeson. 


“ But if it be a question of blood, how, then, about that 
high-born Vasa, the Queen Christina?” 

“ That shocking creature !” exclaimed the Countess B. 

“ Ah, that gifted, wayward child,’’ replied the hostess. 
“ She at least had the womanly prescience to abdicate, be- 
fore disgracing the throne. For so much at least may we 
be grateful; for the rest, much I do fear me that Des 
Cartes and Bourdelat, those sad sceptics ever at court, did 
much to lead sore astray our queen. Methinks she e’en 
would else have remained true to the memory of her fa- 
ther and faith; for did not the aged Oxenstiern sadly avow 
she was the daughter still of our blessed Adolphus ? And 
can I forget ever that fateful day when the king bade the 
last farewell to his country and his Christina. The child 
was then but four years old; and great indeed were the 
hopes cherished of that little one as the future queen; and 
to think that the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, the im- 
mortal defender of our Protestant liberties, should herself 
sink into the pit of Popery ! Ah, woe’s the time; and that 
cruel murder of her Monaldeschi, much I fear me ’twas 
done by her guilty procurement. In Christina is a strange 
admixture surely of good and evil strivings. Her odd 
freaks multiply e’en as her love of learning groweth, in- 
somuch that I do e’en fear me the unseating of her reason. 
Poor child! Unhappy indeed must be the daughter of our 
great hero-king. Yet do I not despair wholly, for me- 
thinks she strives ever for the return of her good spirit. 
The last word brought us from Rome giveth out that she 
taketh sides with the Venetians ’gainst the Turks. May 
the Father above in his great mercy yet save our erring, 
once loved queen.” 

“ Amen ! say we all; and Popery, praise God, gets little 
lodgement in our Sweden.” 

“Nor e’er did from the first; for its warped vision and 
withered lungs ne’er could withstand the vigorous air of 
our free northland. Yet is it strong and wholesome air,” 
continued the hostess,” for all who worship the Father in 
spirit and in truth. Rise we?” 

And with this the company rose and marched out of the 
dining hall in the same order in which they had entered 
it; and then took place that peculiarly Swedish ceremonial 
of returning thanks for the entertainment, the hostess 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


67 


taking a central position and the approaching guests each 
in turn taking her by the hand and saying, “ Tack for 
maten,” to which the stately lady replied with the glad 
and cordially assuring “ Valbekommet! Valbekommet.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

Concluding their ceremonial thanksgiving the guests re- 
seated themselves, gathered in groups, or wandered out 
upon the porch of the water-front as fancy dictated. The 
large apartment had been closed against the direct heat 
of the mid-afternoon; and when Ebba threw open the 
southern casements, lo ! the fjord and its isles and wooded 
slopes lay in sifted gold. At the foot of the lawn hazy 
shadows crossed the little lake, and its circling swans 
flashed white and gilded rays alternately as they glided 
through light and shade, while in the background peace- 
ful svedjen pointed smoky pillars straight into the quiet 
sky. 

’Tis e’en as I most would choose;” said Ebba. ” I 
hoped the view might thus show forth to our guests this 
day. All things great and small catch alike the sun’s 
kindly touch.” 

‘ ‘ Wherein our loftiest luminary, said Mons, ‘ ‘ showeth 
lowliest recog nition and equalizes his bounty for all. With 
those sloping pastures and grazing kine ’tis a pastoral 
scene everywhere sightly ; yet have I a choice withal,” 
and the speaker, with a sly undertone, continued : 

” See those graceful swans, bethink ye not whom they 
most bring to mind of our company here?” 

” Whom think ye then ?” 

‘ ‘ Mark ye now the fair Iduna standing there apart ; 
that snowy and arched neck, can aught be more swan- 
like, and e’en the color, as the sun doth gild the stately 
swimmers, think ye not ’tis like the golden hair of 
our lady ? 

“Hear ye our poetic Mons?” 

“ Nay, the observing, merely.” And as his words 
reached the few persons within hearing, they glanced by 


68 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


turns at the tall lady with statuesque queenliness of 
mien, now as ever a little aside from all companions, 
crowned with a mass of light flaxen hair whose glossy 
folds suggested indeed the sun-kisssed swans, even as the 
exquisitely poised head, the shapely neck and breast, 
indeed the soft and stately grace of her whole presence 
seemed aptly comparable with the harmonious beauty of 
the snowy creatures before them. Nor was the picture 
itself more peaceful than the sweet serenity of the eyes 
that dreamed over it : for they were so divinely blue as 
to hint of yet unknown subtleties of cerulean hues. 
Under these reposed regular features whose classical 
severity was softened by sL kindliness of expression 
indicating commingled pride and humility. Nor was 
anything lacking in manner or costume for an ideal con- ^ 
ception of noble womanhood. 

Was she, then, too faultless ? Is it not possible that the 
sheer perfection of such beauty imparts a sense of 
isolation ? Is there not something in it which, as in the cold 
perfection of a marble image, destroys the feeling of 
kinship, being too alien to the piquant irregularities and 
human shortcomings which are the groundwork of our 
common sympathies ? So wondered Halvor as he quietly 
compared the lofty yet gentle looks of the lady Iduna 
with Ebba’s relatively plain face, so full of indefinable 
force, so calm with latent feeling, so instinct with subtle 
meaning. But the young man’s musings were inter- 
rupted by what now arrested the general attention. 

“What see we yonder?” cried one after another. 

“ Boats crossing the fjord loaded with people.” 

“ As they come nearer,” said Nils, peering between his 
circled hands, “I see their gay dresses, the men with 
long drab gowns and the women with red skirts and 
white hats.” 

“Hear the man with his color lore. But as I look 
further I ^^7 indeed see e’en the bright trimmings,” and 
as the Countess B. continued her scrutiny, she vented a 
descriptive outburst touching blue cuffs and aprons, 
crimson head-dresses and numberless articles and many- 
colored belongings of female attire. 

“Let a gay woman alone,” said Nils, “ for spying the 
intricacies of a woman’s gay dress.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 69 

“The speech of duller man who seeth only the 
woman, not the dress. But who are they, think ^^e ?’’ 

The query was more than once repeated without reply. 

“I have it!” cried a guest triumphantly. They are 
gatherers for the midsummer festival, perchance. 

“Even so: their’s is the Wingaker costume. Oh, 
those merr3"-faced wanderers ! See the last boat-load of 
more grotesque people with broad brim hats.” 

“ Ah, speaking of wandering broad brims,” yawned 
the disgusted Bengt Ericson, “reminda me of what I find 
on mine va^^ from France. Vhen I cross ze schannel and 
come north in England, I zee in ze fields, and lanes and 
barns ggreat crowds of ze strrange sect zey call Quakaires 
drawing people togedaire with zare preachings and pray- 
ings. And zen vhen I to London come I hear all ze talk 
about zeese Quakaires and zare leader, von Guillaume Penn, 
who rreceive zo much estate in ze New World from ze 
English king ; and people vas buying dis land to form 
grreat company to go to America, ah.” 

“And good riddance ’twill be,” said one, “if what I 
hear of these people be true.” 

“ What do’est hear ; what then about them ?” 

“Well, they assemble any and ever}^where, oft in the 
the open air, and pretend to silent devotion e’en 
sometimes without a sermon or prayer, and ’tis said they 
fare hard and eat little and give up themselves to what 
they call devout lives.” 

“ But in practice,” said another, “they be such as show 
respect neither to God nor man. For thej' despise both 
the Holy Scriptures and His lawful church, and make 
their own notions to be exalted above all.” 

“ I have e’en so heard,” said the Generalskan, “that 
these Quakers do trample upon God's ministers and ordi- 
nances, and esteem their own fancies to be as infallible as 
God himself.” 

“ Pe.stiferous creatures!” exclaimed the Countess B., 
“ I do wish all people whose mission ’tis to be disagreea- 
ble would betake themselves to the wilderness. The best 
thing I know of these people is their intention to take 
themselves off to America.” 

“ Take zemselves ah, to ze devil, zo I hope ; for in zare 
carriage towards ze highest and lowest of men zey "thee' 


70 


Ebba Borjeson. 


and ‘ thou ’ all alike and nevare will take off zare hats to 
nobility, clergy or magistrates of ze law — bah!” and the 
speaker’s disgust choked further speech which was sup- 
plied by mutterings of ” shame 1 shame !” among the in- 
dignant company. 

” But, my grandma,” quietly interposed Ebba, ” after all, 
are not these Quakers inoffensive people who lead good 
lives? I so have heard and do believe.” 

” Nay, child, they are guided by no revealed word or 
authorized creed or exposition of doctrine, but claim that 
their inward light leadeth them aright in all things. A 
people they are every way fitted to plant dire Atheism.” 

“But they are true believers,” persisted Ebba, “in 
what they deem divine truth. They claim that right of 
conscience for which our fathers fought. For this did not 
our great Adolphus cross the Baltic?” 

“ Our good king crossed the sea to break the shackles of 
popery, not to loosen the bonds of faith. These be dan- 
gerous notions now loosely spreading among the people. 
The great war was to secure us ever the precious liberty 
of Protestant worship : to go further is to peril all. What 
more can good subjects ask ? And bad people ’twere idle 
to consult.” 

“ The ever growing demands of the lower classes,” said 
a ponderous pretender who had risen from obscurity, “will 
they never call a halt? We of the higher ranks too much 
indulge them methinks.” 

‘ ‘ Vhat zays ze young Halvor ?’ ’ queried Bengt Ericson. 
“ Vid heretics abroad and vulgaire louts at home, what 
zhall be his masterful diplomacy, eh?” 

Halvor, having remained apart from the group of talkers, 
had heard but little of their conversation. He declined 
now to speak and was turning further away when he 
caught the final hissing taunt: 

“ Ah, does ze prudent ministaire fear to commit himself 
in ze profound emergency?” 

The young man turned hastily and, fancying he saw a 
disappointed look in Ebba’s face, quietly said: 

‘ ‘ I know little of the Quakers. I have small fancy for 
the zeal that specially seeks martyrdom and less respect 
for the unquiet classes who are prone to nurse grievances. 
But honest conviction is ever worthy of respect. If .such 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


71 


be not cherished by these people, they’re at least no law- 
breakers; for when they think it wrong to obey a legal 
mandate they humbly suffer its penalties without whim- 
pering. So I am assured.” 

Ebba looked her thanks for the timely help in stemming 
the adverse drift of opinion, while a fierce leer darted 
from under the lowering brows of Bengt Ericson. 

” But I ne’er could see — ” 

” Nay, Nils,” interposed the bantering Mons, ” indeed 
thou ne’er could’stsee aught in topics so dry. Thou wilt 
be better served by the liquefied matter now soon to be 
brought forth ; for betimes I gathered that our good hos- 
tess hath gotten for us some of those wondrous coffee- 
berries of which there be so much talk in the south 
countries. Catch who can a savory secret of the kitchen 
quicker than Nils K. ! But thou art this time forestalled, 
wary comrade. For we were yet at the banquet when I 
did worm out the tidings and learned withal that from- 
these same coffee-berries, when parched and crushed, is 
distilled a liquor fit, ’tis said, to craze the very angels in 
Heaven with new joy. E’er since have I been eager to 
quench this thirsty talk with something fitter for brain 
and gullet — e’en with the aromatic tickler which here 
doth come.” 

And with the words come the fragrant coffee upon a^ 
tray, borne in triumph by the ponderous Helga, whose 
head was enveloped in a hiding cloud of the fumy fluid. 
The delicious article universally indispensable to modern 
breakfast tables, was then slowly finding its way to 
Northern Europe and, being yet scarcely known in Sweden, 
the venerable hostess prided herself upon having at no 
little effort and expense provided so rare a treat for her 
guests. The coffee was served to them as they sat or 
stood in chance groups. Its steamy aroma floated grate- 
fully through the open apartment and out upon the cooling 
air of the porch. 

” Superb !” cried. the gustatory Nils, ” surely ne’er was 
nectar better than this!” 

"Nor, methinks,” replied the musing Lars, "can it be 
e’en sinful to envy thpse lolling Turks daily drafts so 
blissful.” 

" And thou, storied Rhine,” pursued the effusive Mons, 


72 


Ebba Borjcson. 


“ shalt e’en look to thy laurels ; for sweeter tingleth this 
new fluid in craving gullet than the sparkling wine thou 
boasteth. Turks ! the voluptuous dogs ! trust them for 
lounging bliss born of such dainties. ’Tis such as reward- 
eth the faithful in Mecca, the stricken heroes in Val- 
halla!” 

In such wise, went varied talk of the company in its 
chance groupings. A few paced the front porch or re- 
mained gazing through the casements at the outspread 
landscape, while others discussed country-side affairs or 
g(!>ssipped of the latest happenings in Stockholm society. 
Busily among them all went the elder of the two Misses 
Backstrom, a fidgety tattler, who grew secretly fearful 
that the net harvest of her choicest efforts as news-mon- 
ger was destined to failure. For she had not only made 
an extra call upon Ebba, to make sure of being the very 
first bearer of the advance tidings of Halvor’s foreign ap- 
pointment, but had taken pains to confide the same secret 
to successively arriving guests, each with the same in- 
junction to secrecy, all to be now rewarded by hearing 
many allusions to the event as to one long known to ever^^- 
body. 

Ebba had noticed, especially since leaving the dinner 
table, that Halvor avoided her. The young man, with the 
prolonged non-appearance of the handsome stranger, was 
beginning to feel some relaxation from his self-restraint; 
but although with Ebba’s last smile he had almost for- 
gotten the cause of his trouble, he dared not yet yield him- 
self to the pleasure of the occasion. 

While the general company were thus variously occu- 
pied, a group of gentlemen sat a little apart with heads 
bent together in absorbing conversation. They spoke 
earnestly but in such low tones that their talk could be 
heard only in fragments and at intervals. As they con- 
tinued there presently came the connected sentence 

“Indeed, ves; and as I do learn, this royal grant of 
lands which is of vast extent, is made by King Charles in 
full liquidation of a long standing debt due the late Ad- 
miral Penn. The great domain is to be erected into a 
separate province I am told: and it is remarkable that these 
people, forgetting the persecution they have suffered and 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


73 


still suffer, seem to harbor no resentment, but invite all 
sects and classes to their province.” 

“Lovely Bedlam sure ’twill be,’’ said the Countess B., 
“ a vagrant Eden truly in a choice new world.” 

“ And the latest report is that William Penn is already 
busy preparing his so-called code, wherein, as I am as- 
sured, he will not only guarantee religious liberty, but go 
so far, sole proprietary though he be, as to give the peo- 
ple at large who settle in his domain the full right to gov- 
ern themselves under laws of their own making.” 

“ Impossible ! No society can so hold together.” 

“ Is the man a vef}^ lunatic?” asked another. 

“ Grandma mine, hear ye that?” queried Ebba. 

“What, ni}^ child?” 

“Why, these despised Quakers will return good for evdl ; 
they grant the religious liberty they have been denied. 
What more beautiful than the faith and charity of a simple 
people who go to the wilderness to escape persecution, 
and then turn and offer homes and forgiveness to their 
persecutors. Wonder not I, indeed, that people do flock 
to them in such numbers ; and, perchance, some may e’en 
leave Sweden for this new land of promise.” 

“ Leave Sweden ! Wherefore should any leave our 
dear land for a savage wilderness ?” 

“ Why, my grandma, what with late springs and early 
frosts we have such shortened crops as work sore dis- 
couragement to our people, and many of them grow all 
the time poorer as we do know, insomuch that in some 
places they well-nigh e’en suffer for lack of food. And 
my grandma doth well know, that it was in part because 
of such hardships that our wise and good Adolf did en- 
courage our people long ago to go to this new land. 
Ne’er, indeed, shall I forget how, as I sat upon my grand- 
ma’s knee, she did tell me e’en of the king’s proclama- 
tion, sent through all Sweden, calling upon the people to 
form companies for a colony to settle in this new world; 
and how ships and ■ supplies and all things were made 
ready for the voyage when all were stopped by the great 
war in Germany and the untimely death of the king. And 
we do know that the scheme had been so fondly cheri.shed 
by the dead monarch that it was revived and afterward 
carried out by the ever wise chancellor Oxenstiern under 


74 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Queen Christina, and ship loads of our Swedes sailed and 
settl<^d in the new land, where they — ” 

Kbba stopped with a start ; she had been unconsciously 
looking through the casement, and as she spoke a passing 
figure on the outside suddenly caught her eye. Peering 
after it an instant, with affected indifference she excused 
herself and going to a side window gazed obliquely up the 
hill, and the next moment returned quietly to her seat, 
Halvor observed the movement and softly stealing to a 
rear casement was just in time to see a man in a rough 
coat passing up the rearward hill. Varg at the same in- 
stant sprang forward with a fierce bark, and as the 
stranger turned with a quick movement as for defence, 
Halvor was sure he saw the handsome face of Ebba’s 
companion in the Stockholm adventure, while he recog- 
nized the shaggy coat as the garment the man had donned, 
upon turning from the embrace of the lady to hasten 
away. 

“ True, my child,” resumed the old lady, proudly ignor- 
ing Ebba’s abrupt cessation of speech and calmly con- 
tinuing as if to avert attention from the incident, “True 
enough ; but it was for no such seditious purpose as that 
of these non-conforming Quakers who trample alike on 
civil law and religious decencies. Our king’s object was 
to provide for our own poor and promote our own true 
faith. And ’tis furthermore true that this object was 
afterward carried out in the succeeding reign of Queen 
Christina. But the colony thus early planted, having 
twice suffered transfer, first by Dutch and then by Eng- 
lish conquest, hath become well-nigh lost to the sight and 
memory of the fatherland.” 

“Nay, then, my grandma, later news of the half-lost 
Christina settlement now begin to reach us through these 
Quaker emigrants, whose granted province is near unto it. 
Indeed, the very latest tidings brought by broth — ” 

Ebba checked herself ; her deep interest in the subject 
had nearly betrayed her into a disclosure of the secret of 
her brother’s return. Her face tinged as she turned away 
and luckily at the same instant a query from the observ- 
ing Lars, re-directed attention to the hostess. About that 
entertaining lady many lingered in conversation, while 


Ebba Borjcson. 75 

most of the younger guests moved or stood in varied 
talk. 

“Think you, then,” queried one of a whispering 
couple, “that the young envoy careth less for* the fair 
Iduna than for the grandchild of our hostess ?” 

‘ ‘ Saw ye not when Mamsell Ebba stopped speaking 
and gazed up the hill with anxious face, how warily he 
followed to scan her every look and movement? More’s 
the wonder that with such true devotion to Ebba Borjeson, 
she careth naught, methinks, for Halvor Mondahl.” 

“ Careth naught !” echoed the elder Backstrom, catch- 
ing the words as she passed. ‘ ‘ She’d give her eyes for 
him. Tell me ! London Missions are not thrown at por- 
tionless girls without beauty ; and I know not why folks 
should give themselves airs who can but match pride with 
povert3^ Nay, nay, she m2iy seem to care naught for him, 
but Halvor Mondahl can’t be caught by her cunning. 
Whom he will choose I — modesty, ah — ” and the hinting 
simperer frisked herself away. 

“ And, ’tis said,” pursued one of the hostess’ group, 

‘ ‘ that this new land hath such elements and store of riches 
for the future upbuilding of nations that people are like to 
be drawn thither from all parts of the world.” 

“ Such e’en may be,” said the hostess, “but go who 
will to other lands, suffice for me the memories and hopes 
of our own Scandinavia. Taken for all in all, none should 
excite the juster love of its own people. From the re- 
motest times, when other lands of boasted civilization 
rioted in enslaving luxury, our people in their rude 
poverty made their own laws and chose their own chiefs. 
The old Norse blood ne’er endured aught to fetter its 
wild, tree spirit. Where shall you find more fealty to 
true courage and honor bright ; where sweeter songs of 
love and truth than the Northmen’s chanted memories of 
home; where a warmer, truer welcome to its sheltering 
hospitality ? Why, e’en in the olden days of paganism 
did not Odin in his Hava-mal teach to be humane and 
gentle to the wanderer on mountain and sea ; to give the 
warmth of home-fire to the guest entering our dwelling 
with frozen knees ; to minister to mountain travellers 
needing food and warm garments? Yes, ne’er the true 


76 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


Northman but had the gentle graces of home to soften the 
fierce courage of the warrior.” 

“ Bravo I hear, hearl” ran round the room, mingled 
with cries of ” more, more from our hostess !” 

“ Yes, kind friends,” she continued, while all the guests 
approached nearer, “ I grant you I love well our dear 
Sweden. Here is not a land could e’er breed slaves. 
Poor may her people be, but they ne’er will wear chains. 
Nor have Swedes imposed upon others what they ne’er 
would endure for themselves; and so it was that King 
Adolphus, in his proclamation to Swedish colonists, 
forever forbade their holding slaves in the New World. 
Lowly may they be in station, but none loftier in love 
of aught that is just and true and tender in life. And well 
I do love the simple poetry and rugged beauty hidden in 
our Northern mythology. E’en in that find you hearty 
scorn of whatsoe’er be craven or weak or false. And 
where, withal, tardy though it was, came braver love of 
learning ; where sooner found our mother Gothic, her 
groping way to touching speech and noble literature than 
in that storm-hidden Iceland ? Why, friends, whence 
came to us breathings of braver souls or wiser speech than 
greet us from our own Upsala, from her relics and records 
and from the historic shores and isles of yonder lake ? Do 
not they speak to us e’en from the stone age ; tell us of the 
stormy vikings, show us the nobler achievements of the 
Vasa dynasty, and set forth the ne’er perishable annals of 
Sweden’s civic and military glory ? From ancient Sigtuna, 
from historic Upsala, from huge-faced old castle Stegeborg 
and cloistered Wreta, from Wadstena, Fiholm and Ves- 
teras, from Gripsholm and Skokloster, from cradling 
Bjorko, where Christianity was first voiced in Sweden, 
and guarding Waxholm which defies her foreign assailants; 
from storied castle and peasant’s hut, from runic stone and 
viking legend, from cloistered ruin and militant church, 
from the battle-fields of land and lake throughout our land 
comes the story of Sweden ; and it comes scarce closer to 
us anywhere than in the tales which be told of this our fair 
Sodermanland. Where glorieth a nation in a richer past 
than ours ? Rich in song of daring, rich in legendary lore, 
rich in veritable history; nay, rich in ruins e’en of a com- 
merce older than proud Venice knew, for doth not our 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


77 


crumbled Wisby bear witness to her once busy marts, to 
the might and reach of a trade vaster than that of London 
or Paris? And if our Northmen, in the hungry pride of 
their rude strength, did e’en dethrone the fast waning civi- 
lization of those pampered Southlands, did they not sup- ' 
plant it with a juster if a plainer ? Much prating hear we 
of the olden tyranny from which most countries have suf- 
fered, and the liberties for which they striv - ; ours ne’er 
felt the one nor need strive for the other; for its ancient 
liberties ne’er were lost. Feudalism ne’er here got lodg- 
ment, but from earliest times of our Saxon ancestors, 
power e’er came from people to chief, not from chief to 
people.” 

The venerable speaker ceased; she could go no further. 
A warm glow had graduall}^ softened the stern lines of her 
face, but as her fervor kindled with the progrevSS of her 
favorite theme a deathly pallor overspread her features, 
and her gaze became fixed as in spiritual exaltation, while 
she seemed almost to cease breathing. The company 
were hushed in sympathetic suspense and a moment of 
solemn silence ensued, broken only by the sonorous ticking 
of the family clock. Then, as gradually the old lady 
recovered consciousness, she felt her waist encircled by 
the arms of her grandchild, who had stolen to her side, and 
she laid her head upon Ebba’s shoulder amid the soothing 
murmurs of the guests. But only for an instant ; for with 
a sudden impulse she rose to her feet with a half muttered 
scorn of woman’s weakness, and proudly lifting her head, 
strode toward the casement and turned to the guests with 
a merry observation about the weather. 

“Ah, our dear hostess,” said one after another, ” little 
knows how she hath instructed us. Indeed have we a 
noble historic heritage in this our Sweden. We never 
felt it so fully as thou hast set it forth.” 

” For one,” said another, ” feel I e’en ashamed that I 
know not more and better our native land. I should 
greatly like to explore these shores, to see more of these 
castles; and, yes, above all, to visit Upsala.” 

” So should, indeed, all true Swedes,” said the old lady. 

“ None could do aught with greater pleasure or profit,” 
said the quiet Lars. 


78 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Especially if one had good company,” put in Nils K., 
‘‘with good store of courtly food and drink.” 

‘‘A prattling rogue for wisdom !” said Mons A — . ” But 

’twould be a great thing, truly, now, could all here join in 
one jolly exploration of our lake Maelar.” 

‘‘ Excellent ! let us all make to Upsala, at least a trip in 
company.” 

‘‘So be it — to Upsala we go — to Upsala, say all. But 
when ana how ?” 

‘‘Nothing easier, friends,” said the hostess. ‘‘What 
better than to sail there from our moorings here in this 
inlet. We can make shift with craft of divers sort and 
will strive that provision be not lacking.” 

‘‘ Hostess most kind ! but ’twould unfairl}^ tax thee. 
We could rendezvous elsewhere ; and when ?” 

‘‘Say on Midsummer’s day; and ’twould be e’en 
ungracious to decline our kind lady’s offer. I propose 
that we return hither Midsummer morning betimes and 
take boat for Upsala. 

‘‘Return hither!” exclaimed the Generalskan with 
astonishment. ‘‘Return, said 3^e ? Of all the year on 
Yule days and Midsummer doth big heart of Norse host 
•most warm to merry guest. A fortnight was erstwhile 
the shortest measure of Swedish cheer to sojourning 
guest ’pon these two waj^marks of our northern ye3.v. 
Wherefore am I curtailed from two weeks to two days ? 
Grieved am I, truly, if there be any just cause for such 
scrimping of the festive time of old ; an there be no 
shortcoming on my part, all will abide under this roof 
till Midsummer.” 

Here was a difficulty not unanticipated from the 
beginning. The old lady had timed her party so that 
she could retain her guests over the two days intervening 
before Midsummer, and her pride was roused with the 
special effort to extend the entertainment at least to 
include the festival of Midsummer eve. To this end she 
had made great preparations and was prepared by a 
strain of all her domestic resources and the sacrifice of 
her personal comfort, to lodge all her company. But Lars 
and other considerate guests had early seen how seriously 
it would incommode the hostess and they got up a friendly 
conspiracy against the arrangement, resolved to stand 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


79 


firmly together in opposition, at all hazards. At last 
Ebba, who was anxious to save her grandmother’s 
strength, joined the conspirators and succeeded in obtain- 
ing the practical consent of the hostess, who was per- 
suaded that no offense was intended : and so the matter 
was compromised by the arrangement that the guests should 
be suffered to depart now, on condition of returning with- 
out fail for the festival of St. Han’s eve. 

“After which, a night .sail, friends,’’ cried Ebba, “a 
lake voyage under the lingering sun and round moon of 
our longest Swedish day.’’ 

“ Bravo ! best of all — naught could better suit.’’ 

“ Let it be so amended,’’ said the hostess, “ and come 
all to our rustic festival on Midsummer eve ; till when and 
ever fare ye well and abide in keeping of our Father 
above !” 

Tne sun was yet hanging in the low sky when the 
departed guests left such silence in the late merry apart- 
ments that the ticking clock resounded with unwonted 
loudness. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The last of the guests had not long departed before 
Ebba hastened to join her brother at their appointed place 
of meeting, at the foot of Tower Rock. As she passed 
up the hill Varg made a movement to join his mistress. 
This she at first forbade ; but the dog gazed after her with 
a longing that was more than painful ; it was with such 
dogged persistence as usually triumphs. Seating himself 
with uplifted nose, proportioned in height to his rearward 
squat, the animal gazed in sheer protest against her going 
alone up the very path which a strange man had taken a 
short time before. His perseverance was rewarded ; for 
reaching the summit of the ridge, Ebba turned and nodded 
her consent ; the dog bounded up the hill, and receiving 
the assurance, “Yes, Varg may come,” he whined in un- 
speakable content and at once tore ’round the neighbor- 
hood in search of enemies. 


8o 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


Dark were the solemn evergreen woods beyond the 
ridge, for only their highest tops were now touched with 
the sun’s level rays. And the country looked lonely ; for 
all the laborers had quit the fields and the cows were 
brought in to their milking ; and the sounds from distant 
farm-^mrds had a mournful murmur in the mysterious hush 
of the summer air ; and a few belated frogs croaked 
hoarsely as if to deny that summer had come. Skirting 
the dark forest and descending to cross a meadow, Ebba 
saw the black wall of Tower Rock stand sharply against 
the sky. As she approached nearer, there was just 
enough light left from the sunken sun to faintly tinge the 
thick clinging herbage which festooned the great rock. 
These, Ebba was just thinking, were so tenderly green, 
when Varg suddenly barked and she saw a man come out 
from the copse ’round the foot of the rock. The dog kept 
up a low growl till his mistress commanded, “Silence, 
’ti^ Arvid,’’ and in a moment, with smothered words of 
“ little Ebba,’’ and “ brother mine,’’ the two were folded 
in each other’s arms. 

“ ’Twas well-nigh a little wrong — ’twas incautious for 
brother to do so ; he was seen, and Varg barked.” 

“ Varg should have known better ; for is not he the son 
of old Aska, who was erstwhile so glad to know me as 
master ? Not to know me whom his father served as dog, 
friend and beast of burden ! I fear he’s scarce, the 
wondrous diviner thou boasteth. Come here, Varg !’’ But 
he was a war^^-wise if not a divining dog, and needed in- 
troductory assurance like a very Englishman. So he 
prudently held back, looking closely from face to face. 

“Varg, go to Arvid !’’ commanded Ebba, whereupon 
the dog moved with dignity and formally bestowed his 
friendship upon his new acquaintance. As in other cases 
with a prudential foundation, the superstructure of confi- 
dence between man and dog grew from that footing to be 
very close and stable. 

“ How familiar,” said Arvid, “is this spot ! The trees 
be grown somewhat and the vines more encumber the 
wall, but ’tis else the same. Art looking for — ” 

“The crevice, ’tis now much o’ergrown but I ne’er 
could mistake it. ’Twas here thou did’st scale the cliff 
and bring to me the doll for which, methought, my child- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


8i 


ish heart would break ; and ne’er did returning hero bear 
wound so sacred as was that finger thou did’st cripple in 
my service.” 

But soon the brother and sister were in deep consulta- 
tion touching the more urgent matter that engrossed them. 
Arvid had been busy with his secret investigations since 
they parted. He had consulted with a legal counsellor 
and had visited the neighborhood of the old trouble. He 
learned that one of the witnesses who could testify in his 
favor was yet near at hand, and another, who had re- 
moved, was still in Sweden and could be reached; and, 
moreover, the counsellor thought there was little chance 
that the government would ever take action in the matter. 
By all others than the immediate family of the deceased 
the affair seemed forgotten. But here was the trouble. 
What was not likely to be prosecuted by public law was 
in danger of becoming a matter of private vengeance. The 
whole family had always been noted for their quarrelsome 
disposition. Among them the memory of the fray had 
been sullenly kept alive and vengeance repeatedly vowed ; 
and this seemed more stimulated by a simple thirst for 
blood in itself than with any idea of justice toward the de- 
ceased relative, with whom in his life-time they continu- 
ally quarrelled. The more Arvid looked into the matter 
the more he was convinced that these people needed only 
an opportunity to take the law into their own hands and 
seek swift and bloody revenge. Not only this, but he had 
renewed fears that his presence hereabout had been dis- 
covered, and he even had some reason to believe that his 
movements were being continually watched. 

Bvbba became alarmed at her brother’s recital and closely 
pressed his arm from time to time without speaking. 

” I must again fly Sweden,” said the brother. ” I see 
naught else to be done. , T want sure no more blood upon 
my head ; and such mayhap shall come an’ I be assailed ; 
ne’er fled I yet from foe in fair flght.” 

“Oh, must it be ever thus? ’Tis hard indeed that thou 
can’st not live in peace in thy own home and country. 
And my Arvid is guiltless of real crime ? Oh, brother 
mine, I doubt thee not ; but do thou say it e’en once again. 
Thou art innocent in our Father’s sight ?” 

” That may e’en be too much for thy erring brother to 

6 


82 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


assume. But sure am I that Arvid did naught that he 
would not do over again, save perchance to herd with such 
rude fellows Since when were it wrong in Northman’s 
eyes — nay, in the sight of God or man, when is it sin to 
defend the weak against t e strong ? That did I, and God 
sparing me, will I ever do again as chance may offer. I 
should despise myself else. And if death e’en come in the 
doing of it, the sin, e’en as the penance, be fixed by Our 
Father who seeth it.” 

‘‘ ’Tis enough ! In her brother is Ebba’s trust ever- 
more !” 

And so continued the talk of brother and sister far into 
the long twilight of that summer night. As a rest, from 
their strained thoughts, Ebba questioned her brother about 
the strange new land where he had spent so many years, 
and she became deeply interested in the story of his ex- 
periences since leaving his own Sweden. From his 
earliest boyhood Arvid had been passionately fond of the 
tales of the old sea-rovers ; and, inheriting something of 
their spirit of daring and wild adventure, he looked for- 
ward with vague delight to the prospect of gratifying his 
youthful passion in the new world. He first went to the 
little Christina settlement of Swedes on the South or Dela- 
ware river, where he lived for a short time under an as- 
sumed name. The colony" had undergone various changes, 
having fallen under control first of the Dutch and then of 
the English, with both of whom some of the Swedish set- 
tlers had intermarried. He found them generally prosper- 
ous and well content with their lot, but he soon grew 
weary of the peaceful life they led, and so pushed inland 
to the north and west, went among the Iroquois in the 
New Netherlands, joined an exploring and trading expedi- 
tion which voyaged through the chain of great inland seas 
in the northwest, and finall}^ penetrated the interior 
country, and met Father Hennepin and his party of Jesuits 
near the great falls of the Mississippi river, which cataract 
those missionaries had lately discovered and named St. 
Anthony. In company with two fellow travellers he had 
more than once had a running fight with the savages, and 
had made some narrow escapes with life and limb, but ex- 
cept for an attack of chills and fever from continued ex- 
posure, he had enjoyed good health. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


83 


The knowledge he thus obtained of the natives was of 
great service to him in facilitating the friendly traffic he 
carried on with them after he had made his way back to 
New Amsterdam and on the St. Lawrence river. This 
traffic he had found very profitable and had he steadily 
kept on at it he should have amassed a handsome fortune : 
but he had hardly gotten his business into successful 
shape, after much trouble and expense, when he was 
seized with the spirit of restlessness and that wild thirst 
for adventure which is bred iii' the wilderness. He soon 
felt the traffic grow irksome; and so, as soon as he had ac- 
quired little more means than would suffice to cross and 
re-cross the ocean, he sold out, and for a time roamed 
about without definite purpose ; suddenly an intense yearn- 
ing seized him to behold again his dear Sweden and his 
dearer little sister; and here he was. But before he left 
America he again visited the Swedish settlement of 
Christina, where he found some further changes which 
were gradually weaning the settlers from the fatherland ; 
and to check this many Swedes were very anxious to draw 
closer again the olden ties with the home country. He 
had attended the Swede’s church at Cranehook and joined 
in the dear Lutheran services there, conducted by pastor 
Frabicious, and before leaving he had gone among grand- 
ma’s kinsfolk, who had gone from Christinehamm with the 
first emigrants, although he did not allow them to know 
who he was. “And now, little sister,” he concluded, 
“be it for e’er so short, I have thee once again in 
these arms.” 

The twilight was yielding to the tardy darkness when 
they began to wend their way homeward. As they 
walked, Arvid in turn plied his sister with questions about 
his old home. Both seemed willing to delay the talk 
upon the question which would soon require urgent decis- 
ion. 

“ And first of all, my brother,” said Ebba, at length, 
“ is thy lodging for this very night ; nay, before that, e’en 
the food to stay thy hunger.” 

“ Ne’er mind either, little one. With food I’ve been 
amply served ; and for the lodging, many’s the night I’ve 
had no such palatial couch as a barn ; only tell me how 
’tis nowadays with Olaf.” 


84 


Elfba Borjeson. 


“The same faij:hful man as of old, with perhaps a 
dafter head and softer heart than ever.” 

“ And old Gunilla, said’ St thou, hast departed? Dear 
old soul ! How she would kiss her bad, wild deer ’an she 
were alive ; and for that hug of hers I might fear me some 
crushed bones. That peril averted I think e’en I may 
venture toward the house.” 

“Beware! Not so swiftly flatter thyself. Gunilla ’s 
place is more than filled by Helga, her daughter, by 
whose side Gunilla’s size and strength were as a pigmy’s ; 
and her white head gleameth e'en as a snow-peak.” 

“What giant’s wives and daughters doth not our 
northland grow withal ; they e’en o’ertop the men. But, 
my Ebba, how now about the meeting with our grandma. 
It must be very soon if at all. F fear me to tarry in 
Sweden.” 

“Alas, my brother, I have sore bethought me of the 
how and the when ; and ’tis no clearer to me. E’en as 
we walked have I queried whether to risk all and at once 
bring you together face to face. But much I fear that 
with the divers anxieties, which have sore weighed upon 
our grandma of late, the shock would be too grievous for 
her failing strength. This night I shall ponder the mat- 
ter most prayerfully ; but, my brother, I cannot but feel 
sore concern for thy safety. We can contrive for thee 
here safe concealment from thy — ’ ’ 

” Nay, of such matter thinlc not at all; ne’er fear for thy 
brother ; for him ’tis enough when the stress come ; but 
can’st meet soon thy Arvid in Stockholm, and where 

“ At , within a week.” 

“’Tis well ! And for me, now, three hours’ rest in the 
cow-loft, and off betimes on the morrow. We shall e’en 
see whether Olaf or the midsummer sun sooner touch the 
morning mist. So, sister mine, fare-thee-well.” 

Arvid was scarcely prostrate on his bed of hay before 
he was wrapt in sound sleep, but it was long before his 
sister in the softer allurements of her chamber could close 
her eyes. From the first she had felt the burden of her 
brother's secret, and how best to act for the good of the 
two persons most bound to her was the question ever re- 
curring to her mind. Through all the absorbing prepara- 
tions for the party she had found herself weighing the 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


85 


matter in its varying aspects, and during the course of the 
entertainment she had more than once reproved herself 
for suffering her thoughts to wander from the guests to the 
besetting subject. Her grandmother, she thought, had 
been gradually failing for some weeks. She oftener fell 
into spells of mood}^ reverie and was more liable to those 
strange alternations of deep depression and wild convul- 
sions to which she was subject. She had been greatly 
wrought up by the excitement attending the prospective 
party and its busy preparations, and from this there was 
danger of serious reaction. Ebba felt sure her grand- 
mother had not suspected anything in particular either 
from her broken remarks and movement to the window 
when her brother passed, or by her inadvertent remark 
touching his return, into which she had so nearly betrayed 
herself ; and therefore the old lady, she thought, would be 
wholly unprepared for the revelation. Ought she to im- 
pose so grave a matter upon her grandparent’s failing 
strength, already taxed and wasted by her over-exertion 
of late ? On the other hand there were growing chances 
that this meeting between her loved ones must take place 
soon or never. The latter alternative made her heart sick; 
she was sorely perplexed. Closing her eyes in fervent 
yearning for more wisdom, she clasped her hands and 
breathed a low prayer to the Divine Father for His guid- 
ance in her trouble. In this act she fell into a long sleep, 
which was broken by a confused dream of rocky cliffs and 
surging seas over which stealthy savages sought to take 
her brother’s life. 

When she awoke the bright sun sailed high in the blue 
sky. Quickly completing her toilet, Ebba stole softly 
down to her grandmother’s room ; it was silent ; the old 
lady had not arisen. 

“No. m’msell,” said Helga, “ Generalskan be too 
weak to come forth the day, and by her order I did 
carry in her breakfast, which she scarce e’en touched : 
and such dainties, too— the last big egg of cackling Ulla, 
with toast of best oatmeal dressed with richest cream in 
Sweden, e’en Daisy’s cream. Dear, dear! whatever’s to 
be done ! But she be now asleep, methinks : for did 
not I bethink me of the old Rhine wine and fished out the 
last bottle from the cobwebs, and when ye Generalskan 


86 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


put that to her lips, did not eyes snap like she were 
old soldier ? Then she made for to get up, and I so beg 
hef nay and then she drap off like she were shot : and 
then I — ” 

And so ran on the big servant until interrupted by her 
young mistress. It was as Ebba had feared. The strain 
of long-contined cares, culminating in the last day’s 
excitement, had completely prostrated her grandmother. 
Of course, no mention of the weighty subject on her mind 
was to be thought of then : it must be deferred to a more 
suitable time. So she was content to look closely to her 
grandparent’s comfort during the day, and toward evening 
she had the satisfaction of seeing her so much better that 
she felt justified in leaving her bedside. Going out of 
doors a few moments to give some direction to Olaf, 
Ebba gave a sudden start at what she saw : 

“Who were they?’’ she enquired. 

“ Of whom speaketh M’msell?” enquired Olaf. 

“ Why, the two men who but now disappeared behind 
the cow-house. Run quickly and look after them !’’ 

Olaf hastened as bidden, but shortly returned shaking 
his head. 

“Oh, they be some shabby vagrants going o’er the 
ridge : and they do well to be off ere Olaf gies ’em som’at 
more peppery than toothsome.’’ 

Ebba returned into the house and thought no more of the 
incident, except that perhaps once or twice afterward it oc- 
curred to her that the men thus hastily seen had ill-look- 
ing visages. 

The second night’s sleep following the party was sound 
and refreshing to both the ladies. The Generalskan felt 
so well that she determined not to remain longer in her 
room. Ebba tried to dissuade her from re-exerting her- 
self so soon, but the old lady persisted. 

“ Nay, my child,’’ she said, “ soon this day our guests 
re-assemble for the festival of St. Han’s Eve. I must look 
to it that all goes well to the close.’’ 

Ebba feared she might be thus stimulated to tax some 
unreal strength, but after a little unsteadiness at first, the 
interest she took in the beautiful observance of the olden 
time seemed to endow the old lady with all the bounding 
energy of her younger years. She seemed, indeed, so 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


87 


strong and joyous that Ebba began to wonder whether it 
might not be a favorable time to broach the subject that 
filled her heart. They had been sitting on the porch that 
bright June morning. They had watched most of the con- 
cluding preparations on the lawn for the coming festival 
and were now resting silently in the living room, when 
Ebba ventured quietly to say, as if musing to herself — 

“Whither went our Arvid — dost know whether he be 
alive or dead ?’’ 

“ Dead !’’ was instantly repeated like a sepulchral echo 
by the old lady. Her face was turned a little aside, so 
that Ebba did not at once catch its expression. She held 
her breath to hear a further reply ; there came only a gut- 
teral half-strangled sound. Ebba sprang to her side : the 
same rigid attitude she had seen before ; the same strange 
light in her face, with the same glassy far-off look in the 
e^-es ! Hastening for a restorative, Ebba softly stroked her 
forehead as she applied the remedy, and then with sooth- 
ing words she gently led her grandmother to a lounge and 
continued her ministrations until the old lady fell asleep. 
In an hour she awoke with a feverish color in her face. 
She continued in a feeble condition, but was calm and rest- 
ful during the day until the company began to re-assemble, 
when she rose to her feet, and with an imperious wave of 
her hand strode forth to welcome the guests. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Sing who will of a land of perpetual summer, what 
shall match the ever renewed joy of the changing season? 
By the great recompensing law which balances light with 
darkness and pleasure with pain, rest comes of toil, vic- 
tory rewards valor, and joy is enhanced by sorrow. Little 
can be human conception of absolute good in and of itself: 
we know it as the opposite of evil, even as we know that 
warmth oftsets cold and the high counteracts the low. And 
so it is that character is the essence of choice. Every 
mortal excellence is coupled with a price; unearned treas- 
ures turn to ashes ; what costs nothing is worth nothing ; 


88 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


no cross, no crown. What would be the glor}' of the dawn 
without the darkness whence it comes, or the joy of the 
fresh morning except for the rest of the unloved night ? 
What, even, is truth apart from error and how tame is 
peace save as the end of strife ? And so we only know 
the unspeakable gladness of spring as it awakens from the 
dreary sleep of winter. Hence the compensating beauty 
of the northern summer — the renewal of its deep lines and 
gleaming tints in exchange for the languid neutralit}^ of 
the unrested South ; hence the ratio of joyous liberty of 
spring to the wear}^ captivity of winter. Even in Siberia, 
where man’s exile adds to nature’s thraldom, the painful 
intensity of the prisoner’s longings is not wholly without a 
pathetic solace in the brightness of the sadly fleeting sum- 
mer ; after the gloom of Jiis double winter how unspeaka- 
ble the bliss of his brief brilliant summer ! Lands of 
perpethal bloom can never know the religious joy with 
which colder climes welcome the return of the flowers and 
the resumption of summer’s sway. Under skies which are 
always kindly the fullness of home life can never be 
known ; for there man lives out of doors and is merged in 
the multitude ; there he cannot feel the significance of 
that home which gives the Northman his individuality, 
which is the unit of his community, the core of its social 
structure, the anchor of the stablest civilization. It is in 
those stern climates where existence mtist be struggled 
for, that man enjoys the full sense of fire-side cosiness or 
can know that measureless content with small things 
which is enhanced by the besiegings of unfriendly na- 
ture. 

But with friendly nature ! Then indeed is the gladness 
of that peace and plenty which succeeds to weary and 
wasting war. It is symbolized by that Midsummer’s day, 
which, as the longest of the year, is fullest of the sum- 
mer’s bounties of light and heat. On Midsummer’s day 
the Northman seeks to condense, in a single expression, 
his delight in the return of the beautiful season. The 
whole land then appears in vernal array and all classes 
give themselves up to unrestrained enjoyment. 

The festival begins on the evening of the preceding 
day, being St. John’s or St. Han’s eve, when the houses 
are everywhere purified and garnished with green boughs 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


89 


and flowers, and their floors strewn with sprigs of spruce, 
juniper and pine chopped into small particles. The doors 
and porticoes of all dwellings, great and small, are decor- 
ated with pendant garlands ; young fir trees are pictur- 
esquely grouped ; umbrageous arbors constructed; trium- 
phal arches erected over public roads and above the en- 
trances to halls and public places, and everywhere in 
hamlet, on roadside and in private door-yard the gaily 
decked majstang is erected, around which people as- 
semble to sing, dance and make themselves merry. 

Many are the stories told of the varied observances of 
the day in the olden time. It is believed to have had its 
origin in an ancient festival of the Scandinavians given in 
honor of Baldur, the beautiful god of light, when fires were 
kept blazing all night from hill-tops, young men selected 
their brides, and the fortunes of the year were determined. 
As the opposite of the Yule festivities in the shortest and 
darkest days of winter, this midsummer festival is the 
Northmen’s glad day of light, when their whole land, ar- 
rayed in robes of brightest green, is farthest from the 
shackles of the long vigorous winter. It is then more 
than at any other time that relaxed nature laughs with joy, 
and the happy people abandon themselves to the verdur- 
ous gaieties of the season. For it is then they mo.st re- 
alize the common instinct to accord with the common ex- 
pression to ‘ ‘ get into the verdure ! ’ ’ 

The venerable Generalskan had never failed to celebrate 
Midsummer s day with traditional elaboration, and she was 
solicitous that nothing should now be wanting to render 
the festival worthy the olden days. Overlooking the little, 
lake on the green lawn adjoining old Druid Jarl and con- 
nected with its projecting branches, a spacious arbo'; was 
constructed of vines, evergreens and the boughs of conifer- 
ous trees. Its floor was strewn with leaves and pounded 
sprigs of juniper and spruce. From the centre of this ar- 
bor, the old lady, iconoclastic Lutheran as she was, caused 
to be secretly suspended, the Midsummer Qvast, that mys- 
tic bouquet of nine different flowers, which in the pagan 
days was thought necessary to keep off the prowling Troll. 

Young fir trees, stripped of their bark but retaining their 
green tops of pyramidal shape, were tastefully grouped 
about the the lawn in circular form ; from the top of the 


90 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


old mansion, as well as from the highest branches of the 
surrounding trees, were suspended long festoons of inter- 
twined herbage, vines and flowers, decorated with gay 
flags, bright lanterns and various painted devices, all con- 
verging in the central rustic arbor. Over each of the two 
principal entrances to the grounds was spanned a large 
triumphal arch with pendant crowns of the familiar blue- 
bottle and other floral tributes. 

On the centre of each vernal arch was displayed in large 
letters the word “ Valkommen,” cunningly wrought with 
vines and twigs, and everywhere about was profusely scat- 
tered the fragrant meadow-sweet,” to mingle deliciously 
with the prevalent leafy odors. On the highest ground 
near the enclosing ridge the brilliantly arrayed May pole, 
with its green drapery and gay adornment of bright rib- 
bons and painted egg shells, stood with swaying pendants 
ready to lend its indispensable grace to the grand floral 
effect, and a fragrant and joyous air of expectation brooded 
over the completed arrangements, inspiring unbounded 
hope and faith throughout the country side ; for had not 
ever^'thing been done under the competent leadership of 
Olaf as conceived and directed by Ebba, who acted under 
the supreme authority of the' venerable Generalskan, who 
was so much honored and loved throughout the cauntry, 
especially by the bonders, the farmers and all the com- 
moner people ? And was not this festival for their special 
pleasure? The higher guests from Stockholm and the big 
estates were to be helpers at the opening and to join in or 
look on just as they might choose, but it was understood 
that this particular festival was given by the good General- 
skan especialh" for the people at large. 

And the joyous eve was come at last. The weather was 
fickle. The morning had been bright and full of promise; 
but early in the afternoon a mass of dark purple clouds had 
piled themselves in the southwest, and these had been as- 
sailed by a coquettish wind and scattered over the sky. 
At intervals they wept a quiet rain like tears. This 
vvholl}^ ceased later on and a leaden veil of inert clouds uni- 
formerly canopied the heavens. But what cared the glad- 
hearted people for good or bad weather ? 

Before the rain had ceased they began to arrive in boats 
garnished with branches and gay with streaming pendants, 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


91 


propelled be merry-faced rowers, and as the afternoon 
wore away they came over the hills from all directions, in 
various attire, all bearing joy in their faces and green gar- 
lands in their hands. Grand personages from Stockholm 
and brown-faced peasants from the country, gay city finery 
and home-spun apparel, bright costumes from Wingaker 
and Dalecarlia, and grotesque and quaint garments of 
every description all mingled in the picturesque .scene. 

Under the blaze of fires on the hill-tops and amid merry 
shouts and laughter, the people formed in hasty procession 
and marched under the arches and up the grassy slope. 
Under the protecting limbs of Druid Jarl, near the entrance 
to the rustic arbor, the gracious Generalskan was duly 
stationed to greet the people and bid all join in the joyous 
frolic : and each one as presented waved a forget-me-not 
or other token of the happy eve. And so with song, chat 
and all manner of gaity, was launched forth the Midsum- 
mer festival. 

“Ah, ha, now,” broke out our merry Mons A., as he 
pointed to the suspended bouquet in the arbor, “most 
bravely done! See ye that, all? ’An my eyes play me 
true there hangs the mistic Qvast of our pagan forefathers. 
Church champion most rigid is our royal hostess, yet hath 
she the true Svenska blood e’er fresh, else could not be 
here swung its testing symbol weird.” 

“ And I dare be sworn,” said the enquiring Uars, “ that 
the charm-working Johannes-Gras and mistletoe and each 
of its nine parts, do hold faithful lot in its make-up 
withal. ’ ’ 

“Aye, aye,” joined in the Countess B., “and one of 
these fair maids may hapl}^ find here her true lover, and 
she place it this night under her dreaming head.” 

“ And look ye well about,” said Lars, “and mayhap we 
may e’en find hidden hereabout the wondrous Slag Ruta.” 

“In Heaven’s name!” exclaimed several at once, 
“ what, then, is the Slag Ruta ?” 

“E’en such query doth impeach the quality of your 
Norse instincts ; for was not the Slag Ruta that olden 
dove- tailed device, made of mountain ash and other 
charm-bearing woods, wherewithal our heathen ancestors 
did uncover hidden trea.sures?” 


92 Ebb a Borjeson. 

“Nay, but how e’en with the Slag Ruta were such 
wonders wrought?’ ’ 

“How wrought then? E’en by venturing nigh unto 
the supposed place of the treasure sought, and laying the 
instrument first upon one guessed spot, then upon another, 
and when at length it rested o’er the hunted object, the 
marvellous implement of divination did then begin to 
move of itself as though it were alive withal !’’ 

“A veritable Falstaff, truly,’’ responded Mons A., 
“ to thus know by instinct more than by sight, and with 
e’en as much truth in one case as in the other : but much 
I fear there be little hope of treasure finding with such 
chattering as is here, for as I do now remember me the 
wonder is wrought only in silence utter : the charm be 
broken else.’’ 

“True, but ’tis at most only after sundown the charm 
will work, and thus ’tis that in the far north where at 
Midsummer the sun goeth not down at all, no Slag Ruta 
can fetch hidden gifts to love-lorn seekers.’’ 

“The poor be-lighted creatures!’’ exclaimed Ebba 
merrily, springing forth to greet a new-comer. “ In that 
far north land,’’ she continued, “how they’re now 
afflicted by the tireless sun ! Here with five hours with- 
drawal of his fiery face we’re comparative Southrons : 
Yet there and here, how dear are the simple customs, the 
crude folk-lore which mark the kinship of all Scan- 
dinavians ! Was e’er aught more beautiful than the 
coupled valor and tender simplicity of our true North- 
man ? In the freshness of this olden festival catch we 
something of the poetic spell of that brave old Norse 
mythology which I think it no sin to love.’’ 

“ Bravo ! True heir to the loyal Generalskan and, 
amen, say we, howe’er we rate the Quakers : but how 
now, then — what have we here ?’’ 

The speaker was interrupted by a pushing crowd and 
hurrying shouts of “ stand aside there,’’ and “ make way 
for the march,” and at once there came a motley pro- 
cession of merry-makers in grotesque and fantastic 
costumes, headed , by swaying and knavish looking 
musicians playing various instruments in comical strains. 
In garlanded couples, in badged groups with banners of 
branching trees, in laughing and singing quartettes in 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


93 


various strange movements, in balancing attitudes in 
circles of joined hands, in wreathed heads and fantastic 
hats of many shapes and colors, in every quaint or out- 
landish fashion that suited their riotous fancies the 
confused ranks moved along in uproarious sport. 

“ Now, by all the gods of all the ages,” exclaimed jubi- 
lant Nils K., “if this bring back the legendary past his 
the mocking present not less, and yet more, perchance, a 
veritable chaos come again. Now expect I this night to 
see on every hill-top a blazing ” Balders Balar,” through 
whose flame and smoke people shall madly plunge to 
be purged and mailed ’gainst all ill.” 

” And I shall e’en expect,” said the quiet Lars, “ to- 
night at yonder cross-roads to behold a ‘nine-wooded fire’; 
into the which believing pilgrims shall cast the toad-stool 
Baran ’gainst the hovering Troll, as e’en yet they do in 
our Norrland.” 

” Now, b}^ the troth, were Mons A. a younger man and 
gallanter withal, would he this night keep vigil at cross- 
roads fire, to find his true bride, nor ne’er doubt could he, 
then, that two gladsome figures would there reward his 
watch-^e’en Freja, the goddess of matrimony, leading 
forth the e’er charming bride.” 

A good way e’en yet, methinks,” said one of the 
ladies, ‘‘for two lovers to seek each other. Sorry am I 
that the custom be not now in vogue.” 

‘‘ No such vulgar coupling for me !” retorted the elder 
Backstrom. ‘‘ Find I otherwise a lover easily enough when 
one I need, thank you.” 

‘‘Oh, charmingly romantic it seems to me,” said the 
Countess B., “ and, withal, as sure of happy issue as the 
prevalent mode matrimonial. Methinks, perchance, the 
uncertainties in the choice would but match the after mis- 
chances of the married partners, and might lend piquancy 
rare to o’erstrained propriety. Choose I here delightful 
doubt o’er too tame certainty.” 

‘‘ Hear ye, the ladies disagree ? ’Tis their own field of 
battle ; let us hear from them all.” 

” Yes, hear we from all our ladies,” repeated Mons A., 
‘‘ Who, if not they, know whereof they affirm on this their 
chosen ground ? On with the conflict ! Hear we both 
sides !” 


94 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


“ Let's hear from the fair Iduna. And what saith 
Mamsell Ebba on a topic so fitting ?” 

But the last was flitting about from place to place, in 
ceaseless attention to the guests, while Iduna silently 
drew back and sought to move further apart. 

“Nay, our fair friend, help us, prithee, out of this diffi- 
culty. Who should better know than Iduna ? Let her 
solve this mystery. ’ ’ 

“ Nay, good friends, the human heart is itself the mys- 
tery of human mysteries and not thus, methinks, is its 
secret divined or its peace obtained. ’Tisnotforme to 
enlighten any in matters so hidden.’’ 

“ Spoken,’’ said the merry Mons, “like the fair Iduna, 
goddess of Love, and, as this English Milton might put it 
— ‘herself the fairest lover.’ ’’ 

As if the red sun had kissed a marble Venus, Iduna’s 
pale cheek slightly colored, as she quietly withdrew from 
observation. 

“ Aye,’’ said wary Lars N., “it might so be put by this 
poetic Milton, but with more license than truth, for Iduna 
was neither the goddess of Love nor is our fair friend a 
confessed lover. The classical Iduna was the goddess of 
Youth, not Love.’’ 

“ Go to, now, friend, are not youth and love e’en the 
same ? I have thee there ! Score me one : and for the 
rest the lady neither affirmeth nor denieth that she’s a 
lover ; and, in so far, ’tis a stand-off betwixt us.’’ 

“ Nay, friend,’’ interposed Ebba, halting as she passed, 
“confess not thyself a vanquished knight ’pon 2Lny ac- 
count, for Love being immortal is not more at one with 
Youth than with Age ; moreover ’twas onl}^ by her gifts of 
apples that the beautiful Iduna kept e’en the gods free 
from mortal taint.’’ 

“Thanks, thanks ! fair deliverer. ” 

“ And e’en I,’’ said an elderly guest, “ have a lance to • 
break with thee. what right or token dare’st divorce 
Age from Love ? And the good Ebba had’st not forestalled 
me thou should ’st answer my challenge to combat. What 
says’ t now the would-be victor?” 

“ Ah, sweet revenge have I,’’ rejoined the gay Mons, 

‘ ‘ all this be wide of the mark : take I up the glove first 
thrown down, and I wager you all to find here and now a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


95 


heart-tester worth two o’ this fire-trick or wooden di- 
viner,” and as he followed Iduna and Ebba with quizzical 
glances, the roguish speaker pointed with boisterous glee 
to young Halvor Mondahl, who at that instant entered the 
arbor. Quicker than Iduna could avert her face the warm 
blood mounted to her cheeks, while Ebba profiting by a 
timely summons from her grandmother, took convenient 
refuge in flight. 

‘ ‘ Ah, ha, now! ne’er went Cupid’s arrow straighter to 
mark. But I’ll be chivalrous victor. A plague upon 
words when action be pending. What say you now ? Let’s 
e’en put the matter to the test.” 

“Good! so say we all.” 

“All ! Come ye now all ; ’tis but a step to the nighest 
cross-roads and the fire is already lighted. Come on, then, 
— on, on, come all.” 

And so the coterie scattered. The assembled concourse 
had sought amusement in various ways ; while a goodly 
number took turns in dancing around the decorated pole, 
others strolled in couples over the hill and round the lake ; 
some had yielded to the leafy enticements of the little isle 
and threw food to the swans as they glided, while a pair 
of rustic lovers disputed their watery possession by float- 
ing about in a rude skiff of birch bark ; others sprawled 
themselves in lazy delight on the grassy slope. A few had 
perched themselves aloft among the spreading limbs of 
Druid Jarl, and a larger number seated themselves upon 
the mass of gray rocks in whose dividing crevice the trunk 
of the sturdy oak had so long maintained room for widen- 
ing growth. 

Varg, who felt no insignificant share of the famil}' 
solicitude, seemed to know that he must be no idle dog 
on such an occasion. From the first he took a high point 
of observation where, assuming a pyramidal erectness of 
position with nose aloft, he deliberately watched the suc- 
cessive arrivals and received his first impressions of the 
visitors. After this preliminary service he felt it his duty 
to go carefully upon a round of olfactory inspection, in the 
course of which he speedily passed all who confirmed first 
favorable impressions, while near doubtful guests he 
planted himself with his nose beUyeen his paws to con- 
sider of the matter. 


96 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


In such an attitude Ebba chanced to find the dog. She 
had called to him shortly before for some light service and 
he had not obeyed her call ; and now as she spoke, instead 
of leaping joyfully toward his mistress, he acknowledged 
her presence by vigorous wagging of his tail while he kept 
his eyes intently fixed upon a few persons near by. This 
attracted Ebba’s attention to a couple of men who seemed 
to be taking little part in the festivities and who turned 
away their faces as if to avoid her notice. She had a 
vague impression of having somewhere seen the men be- 
fore, but it was not until she had passed on and mingled 
with the throng, that it suddenly occurred to her that at 
least one of these men belonged to those she had lately 
seen lurking about the cow-house. 

The sport went on as fancy or whim led the varied tastes 
of the company. In a spirit of gay banter, those who had 
been debating the choice of partners by the midsummer 
fire-vigil, repaired to the forks of the road near at hand, to 
enjoy the fun of an actual test by the fire which had there 
been set blazing. Here the young people wildly leaped 
over the flames, threw into them selected flowers and gar- 
lands, and practiced all the mysterious incantations neces- 
sary for blissful certainty in conjugal selections. But there 
was evidently far more eagerness for results than simple 
faith in the mode of producing them ; for in order to avoid 
possible slip or delay in the harmonious selection of the 
bride and groom, it was agreed that the fire-guide should 
be supplemented by a decision by lot, and to make it the 
merrier the whole party were thus to be mated. And 
great was the fun that followed the incongruous mating ; 
the fastidious Bengt Ericson was chosen bride-groom for 
the clumsiest red-faced maiden on the grounds, the old 
were coupled with the young, city exquisites with rustic 
gawks, and rough peasants with titled scions : but despite 
the many manoeuvers of the merry-makers, they failed to 
mate either Iduna or Ebba according to their mischievous 
designs. 

And so in divers ways the people gave themselves up to 
the frolics of the evening. At length, they enjoyed with 
hearty gusto a cold collation, distributed among them as 
they sat or moved about the grounds. Meanwhile, the 
weather had been anxiously watched with reference to the 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


97 


expected night excursion. More than once the dull, gray 
sky began to show small patches of blue, which disap- 
peared as often, but at last the leaden veil lifted enough 
to reveal a narrow belt of orange sky all along the western 
horizon. Gradually the belt widened, and into it presently 
dipped the sinking sun, his level beams suddenly stream- 
ing under the trees and flooding the company with ruddy 
light. Up went successive peals of gladness. 

“ Oh, the blessed harbinger of the morrow’s joy — prom- 
ise true of a golden Midsummer!’’ 

“ Yes, dear friends,’’ said the Generalskan, “let us e’er 
see what our forefathers saw in such glowing promise, e’en 
the smile of beautiful Baldur, the Northman’s god of 
Light, to us typical of our God of Truth and the Light Im- 
mortal.’’ 


CHAPTER XIV. 

While the festivities continued the preparations were 
busy for the night sail on the lake. The lugger had been 
overhauled and decorated with midsummer garlands, and 
was being provisioned for a somewhat indefinite voyage. 
Earlier, when the skies were of doubtful import, Olaf had 
been more than once appealed to for encouraging weather 
symptoms. But the effect was rather to gratify the vanity 
of that personage than to elicit information from him. 
The wary prophet was too wise to risk so great a repu- 
tation upon an issue of so much doubt : and so, by merely 
looking the wisdom he withheld, and acting the mystery 
he disdained to solve, the knowing man proved true to 
his profession. But when the brightening skies rendered 
prophecy needless the prophet grew effusive. 

After divers observations of the clouds, moon, wind, 
breath of the cows,’ action of the geese, weight of the 
smoke and fur of the family cat, the deliberate conclusion 
was reached that ‘ ‘ middlin' fair weather with fair to 
middlin’ winds might be looked for with middlin’ cer- 
tainty provided nothin’ didn’t happen in particular’’ — in 
which profound opinion the watchful Varg concurred, as 

7 


98 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


was plain to be seen in the ponderous serenity of the 
dog’s face and the approving wag of his tail. 

Many were the regrets that the excursionists must be 
deprived of the pleasure and profit of the Generalskan’s 
company, which had been fully counted upon. Consider- 
ing her age and the fatigue and excitement she had 
lately undergone, the risk of exposure to the night air, 
with the further taxing of her strength, would be an 
imprudence not to be thought of ; and Ebba seriously 
considered whether she herself was doing right in leaving 
her grandmother under circumstances whose full force 
could not be understood by others. But the old lady 
would not hear of Ebba’s desertion of the party, which 
she deemed a' breach of hospitality ; and, indeed, it was 
difficult to believe that the vigor and spirit evinced by 
the old hostess did not wholly come from the normal 
health and strength she claimed to feel. 

As it was, she would scarcely feel justified in excusing 
herself were it not that her absence would be more than 
atoned for by the attentions of her learned and enthusiastic 
friend, Olof Rudbeck, to whom she commended her 
friends by letter, and who might be relied upon as first of 
chaperons. Bengt Ericson, who had been wandering ill 
at ease among the motley crowd of revellers, and whose 
vanity had not been consulted in the hasty arrangements 
of the party, concluded that without the old madam as his 
friend and the staunch backer of his matrimonial suit, 
neither his cause nor his company would be honored as 
his dignity required, and so found a plea for excusing 
himself. 

“ You may e’en doubt me,” whispered Nils K., “but 
my grief at Bengt’s absence is not inconsolable !’’ 

“Wretch!” replied the countess, “thou givest fixed 
speech to floating thought e’en in mine own mind.’’ 

“See, my friends,’’ suddenly -exclaimed the old lady, 
“e’en the filmiest clouds break away for you. ’Tis as I 
most wished. You have the sun yet till nigh ten ; then 
yon growing moon will sail with you till the sun comes 
back at three.’’ 

“So much light and — and — ’’ 

“ And brighter company, withal,’’ suggested Mons. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


99 


“ Oh, let us be off — ” exclaimed the elder Backstrom, 
“ I am all impatience.” 

‘ ‘ With so many elements of romance — ’ ’ said the 
Countess B., “Gentlemen, I warn you betimes that with 
rippling lake, gilding sun and dreamy moon I shall expect 
to behold the light of dreamier eyes and must not long be 
kept waiting to be wooed.” 

“Waiting to be wooed!’' replied Mons A. “Nor 
waited long fair lady of old for knightly wooer. But in 
these days, methinks, there be more waiting than wooing. 
E’en impatient lovers now do win their own spurs b}' that 
vexation of the spirit of which we may wish our countess 
here much jo3\” 

“ Disenchanting monster ! Dare you return without 
knightly tilt for the honor of some fair lady, and I’ll — ” 
the countess made a playful move as if to box the other’s 
ears, when amid cries of “ dricka skal,” “ skal hostess,” 
“ skal brother,” the excursionists joined in a cordial toast 
to the health of their hostess. The old lady bowed in ac- 
knowledgment. 

“All things,” she said, “have been provided 3^011 
whereof I could bethink me ; .but should ill winds pursue, 
or other mischance befall y^ou, fail not to send Olaf for- 
ward to bespeak the aid of Herr Rudbeck’s po^st-ymchts 
by which the honest man setteth great store ; and I do de- 
voutly wish you a voyage most joy’ous. 

“Ne’er fear, kind hostess. With attentions so kindly 
and cheer so generous we were brutes were we not the 
happiest of honored guests.” 

All seemed read3^ and the lugger was about to push out, 
when Olaf suddenly sprang ashore and, begging for a 
moment’s delay, ran up the slope and presently returned 
dragging behind him a limb, or part ‘of a tree, which 
proved to be a mountain ash. 

“ Catch an old soldier without shield, or sailor without 
anchor, but not Olaf without branch of magic Ronn.” 

“ Now what new whim be this?” was the enquiry. 

“Nay, an old foll3^ if any^ friends,” said the old lady 
with a quiet smile. “Olaf omits no precaution for y^our 
safety, ’twould seem, for to this mountain ash our Norse 
ancestors ascribed such protective powers that they called 


lOO 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


it ‘Thor’s hjelp,’ and e’er carried parts of it about them 
for security against prowling Troll.” 

“ In sooth, I do now remember me,” said the observing 
Lars, ‘‘and in building their war galleys the old North- 
men did always insert a portion of this wood as a charm 
against the sea-troll.” 

“Aye.” replied the Generalskan, “and not alone 
against the olden evils, but against supernatural dangers 
old and new; for which reason the mountain ash is 3^et 
vastly esteemed in our northland for divers purposes ; 
and what Olaf most values in the lugger in which you 
sail are two well-marked planks of ‘Thor’s hjelp,’ which 
exalt the vessel above all common craft. And now, good 
friends,” continued the old lady, as the party re-adjusted 
themselves for a start, “ be ye not slow to ask and receive 
of my friend Olof Rudbeck. By naught could he be 
more delighted. Neither hope nor faith with him hath 
bounds, and I know not whether he be most wedded to 
old' or new things; for in both he throweth his whole 
heart. A wise and learned man is he and a most 
zealous and loyal Swede withal. And ye cannot better 
please the devoted scholar than to query with him touch- 
ing this new science of botany : ’tis marvellous the num- 
ber of n^w plants and growing things he hath brought to 
light, and learnedly discourseth of. And may our Father 
above,” continued the old lady, lifting her hands in 
reverent benediction, “speed your pleasant voyage and 
have you e’er in His holy keeping.” 

And so with hand wavings and gladdening calls the 
lugger left her moorings in the inlet and pushed out into 
the fjord. Travelling in Sweden was done at that early 
day almost wholly by water. Intersected by many navig- 
able lakes and largely bounded by seas deeply indenting 
its coast, its boating facilities were extraordinary ; and in 
all pursuits of business or pleasure, the people relied 
mainly upon water communication. In the management 
of sailing craft of every description, all ages and classes 
were experts, hardly less by inheritance than by instruc- 
tion. Even in this hurrying age of railroads, these pic- 
turesque water-ways afford not only a favorite means of 
pleasure-jaunting, but of busy traffic as well. But of no 
part of Sweden is this so true as of that region of alternat- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


lOI 


ing land and water which surrounds its capitol cit3^ 
Here the isle-studded lake of Maelar affords at once rare 
means of gleeful recreation and of converging an inland 
traffic to the chief city of the realm ; and it is seldom that 
its waters in summer are not enlivened with the busy vota- 
ries of both pleasure and commerce. To the first it was 
joyously devoted on this midsummer eve. As our excur- 
sionists left the shore, the basin of the. fjord was slowly 
darkening. The sun yet lingered above the horizon, but 
he had tilted his red beams to the hill-tops, and there set 
rocks and trees ablaze as in keeping with the Midsummer 
fires which had been kindled along the heights. It was a 
lovely picture of a summer evening in the northland. A 
soft breeze from the south slowly filled the sails and the 
vessel bore across a fretted breadth of bright water to the 
glassy surface beyond. 

“ Methinks this lake,” said one, “ bore of old a fitter 
name than now. Did not our forefathers call it Lau- 
gern ?” 

“ Even so ; because its waters were e’er so placid ; and 
aptly was it so designated an this calmness be its common 
mood.” 

‘‘A mood,” exclaimed the Countess B., “to court 
dreaiu}^ romance e’en this sweet hour. Gliding swan 
would scarce less ruffle these calm waters than doth our 
boat. Perchance the lake greets us now in kindliest tem- 
per ; for when should northern waters give gracious greet- 
ing to children of Northmen if not on Midsummer eve?’’ 

“ ’Tis aptly said,’’ returned Lars, “but ever hath this 
lake been less disturbed by nature then by man. Its 
countless isles and sheltered fjords, e’en while hindering 
the storms of the one, have suffered the more fiercely 
from those of the other. From the destruction of its most 
ancient city the beautiful shores which nature hath fondled 
have ne’er ceased to be ravaged by man ; and if memory 
serve me not amiss, ’twas in this very bay we now be 
leaving that did occur one of the exploits of those old- 
time plunderers, the vikings.” 

“ An it be a tale of love and chivalry,” said the coun- 
tess, “pray tell it us.’’ 

“ Whether of love I know not, or of chivalry scarce 


102 Ebb a Borjcson. 

more, but of bold invention and wary tactics joined with 
tireless valor, I promise ye full measure.” 

“ Ah, ’twas the the besieging of that old viking Olaf, I 
ween,” said Mons A. 

” Even so ; and feat of pluck and adroitness truly was it 
when the joined fleets of Denmark and Sweden, having 
penned the old pirate in this fjord, thinking to make him 
choose between capture and certain destruction, the 
dauntless viking escaped to the Baltic, across the dividing 
ridge, with all his fleet, leaving his would be captors block- 
ading this empty bay.” 

” Escaped, said you? and how could he, then, with ves- 
sels over dry land ?’ ’ asked Halvor. 

“Shrewdly queried,” replied Ears; “ tradition saith by 
cutting a ditch through the narrow ridge dividing lake 
from sea, and some excavated earth is there e’en pointed 
oiit as part of the old viking’s ditch ; but that we do 
now well know was ne’er made by Olaf, but by Engel- 
brecht in the abandoned canal project of the fifteenth 
century. If the whole story be not a fable, ’tis more like 
that the old rover dragged the small viking ships over 
the lingering snow, since he fled at the end of a winter’s 
imprisonment in the fjord here. ” 

“ Know ye,” said Ebba, “that the Generalskan slyly 
hoards some old storie's touching the blockade?” 

“Charming!” exclaimed the Countess B., passing 
her arm ’round Ebba’s waist. “Oh, then, tell them, 
pray!” 

“Nay, little can I tell. Thou shalt query of my 
grandma. Dimly I remember her sitting in the chimney 
corner telling how both besiegers and besieged harassed 
our ancestors at the old place there, which was well-nigh 
between the two ; but what I better remember is that e’en 
then my grandma grew wrathful at any questioning of 
the Swedish loyalty of our remotest ancestry, ever stoutly 
aVowing that whate’er aid the invaders obtained from 
them was forcibly taken as plunder by those Norwegian 
pirates. Was’t not this same old viking who became a 
saint ?” 

“Two there were,” said Ears, “of these Norwegian 
Olafs, who became famous in the same way. Both 
began as vikings and ended as saints ; both spread terror 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


103 

abroad as pirates and then punished piracy ; both were 
wild, fierce, great-souled men, first as marauding pagans 
and then as merciless propounders of Christianity, who 
went about destroying heathen idols and forcing the 
peaceful faith by fire and sword.” 

” Heavenly vicegerents in very sooth!” said Mons A. 
“Sturdy preachers, verily, these old vikings tough, 
making speedy Christians by pious blow and cuff.” 

“ Little knew the old Northmen of any faith,” said 
Halvor, “ save that in stern courage. His one idol was 
valor. He was ne’er a stealthy thief but ever a bold rob- 
ber ; and were it but bravely done, defending his own and 
plundering from another were much the same to him.” 

‘ ‘ But did not good hence come from evil ?’ ’ enquired 
Ebba. “ For when turned aright this true courage surely 
bore up true faith, and these strong men became thus e’en 
as staunch and true and tender for the right as they had 
been as prone and cruel and fierce for the wrong. ’Tis 
not the strong e’en when erring, from whom most is to be 
feared, but the weak and cold, who have little choice be- 
twixt good and evil. ’Tis e’er the forceful that — but do 
behold! oh, that matchless afterglow!” All turned to- 
ward the northwestern horizon. They had just swept out- 
ward from the widening fjord. If was past ten o’clock 
and the sun at last had disappeared from a fiery sky, 
which shed its borrowed glories in vivid condensation over 
the lake. Across this shining pathway numberless islands 
darkly loomed. From some, arching limbs dipped their 
foliage into the water ; from others, light gray rocks 
gleamed from clustering underwood. Here the party 
passed an isle whose groves were guarded by an outer 
border of granite boulders ; there they swept ’round an 
embowered islet whose lofty tree-tops pierced the glowing, 
sky. From some, quaint looking houses peered forth into 
the bright twilight ; from others, gaily-decked May poles 
lifted their streaming pendants to the breeze. From 
many, came merry laughter and sounds of gladness. 
Gaily-trimmed boats, rowed by young girls in white, 
passed fiom isle to isle ; music and song floated from 
grove and boat, and the whole lake seemed alive with the 
sights and sounds of the festive midsummer. 

Our paity caught the glad contagion. At first lulled by 


104 


Ebba Boijcson. 


the enchanting quietude of the scene, they presently 
burst forth into song and merriment. During all Halvor 
remained silent ; he was thinking of Ebba’s last words and 
the quick insight they evinced '^oth of the inward truths of 
life and the outward beauty of nature. In her womanly 
intuition there seemed to him a seer’s glimpse, something 
akin to the spirit of prophecy ; for did not her heart teach 
at the outset what others reached by cold observation ? 
The truthful fervor of her few words touching the after- 
glow, how they had made him deaf to the copious rhapso- 
dies that followed ! He was not insensible to these out- 
ward influences but he was awed by a rapt exaltation 
which seemed to lift her above things earthly. It was 
with something akin to despair that he wondered at deli- 
cate susceptibilities in which he could little share, and his 
heart grew sick with a strange jealousy of everything 
that threatened to place her beyond his reach. Yet 
within her reach he hardly dared venture after that last 
appearance of the handsome stranger, stealthy and inex- 
plicable though it was. What did it all mean? He 
keenly desired yet dreaded, a solution of the mystery. 
But the goading part of it was that the greater his perplex- 
ities the more she became necessary to his happiness. 
Long and often the poor fellow strove to grasp the secret 
of Ebba’s power over him ; oftsn he longed to be free 
from her thraldom and as- often repeated to himself how 
empty and colorless would be the freedom from that 
thraldom. 

With a freshening breeze the party neared the center of 
the lake. Through its many-isled channels, across its 
sheeny breadths, rounding its low sandy points and bold 
rocky headlands they wound their way. often to the fes- 
tive music of voice and lute ; and as they emerged from 
under the canopied darkness of a leafy shore the bright 
moon thrust her upper rim above the horizon. Before its 
shimmeiing gleams the sun’s after glow paled over the 
lake and all hues merged into a vaulted mass of weird 
gray light. Soon beneath a clear starry zenith the rising 
wind, circling from unobserved quarters, rimmed the 
lower sky with massing clouds. These it assailed with 
still pursuing whim, and through their changeful rifts the 
moon streamed in silvery exuberance. 


Ebba Borjcson. 


105 

Then with a rearward shift and swell of wind, the 
lugger quivered with new speed, the party were roused 
to fresh exhileration, and, as the lashed waves showered 
ottener into the boat,' the saturated victims scrambled for 
change of position with shouts of bantering laughter. 
So onward they plunged, merry gibe and saucy repartee 
with unclassified frolic keeping pace with the growing gale. 
The vigorous sport was verging to wild anxiety wlien 
after an hour’s cumulative blow the wind abated with a 
slight dash of rain, and the heavens rapidly cleared. As 
the last cloud scudded away there came the ringing cry, 

“See, see! the auroral greeting of our northland : 
All hail its bright battle-flags, its shining armor! Good 
omen sure when these gleam in midsummer skies.’’ 

All eyes swept the sky-line and there from ’round its 
entire circuit, flashing scimitars and quivering sheets of 
light, mingled with darting gleams of changeful colors, 
swept up from horizon to zenith in gorgeous and dazzling 
splendor. As they gazed the spectacle so grew in lumi- 
nous intensity, in vivid yet subtly varied radiance of tone, 
that the whole heavens seemed ablaze with glorified 
pyrotechnics. 

“Was it e’er excelled,’’ queried Ebba, “by aught in 
the flaming Orient — doth it pale before Turkish glow or 
fiery beauty of the Mediterranean, of which wondrous 
tales were left us by our viking ancestors?’’ 

“Nay, said Tars, “they saw no sights abroad nor 
fetched e’er spoils home to match our Northern Lights 
e’en in midsummer when they’re least lustrous.’’ 

Meanwhile Olaf’s face, which had worn a happjGook of 
relief with the subsidence of the threatened - gale, was 
growing anxious from a different cause. Steadying the 
helm against a yet swaying breeze, his eye ranged the 
horizon for dreaded confirmation of a- threatened calm. 
And confirmation swiftly followed in the dying winds 
which soon left the lugger riding helplessly on the swell 
of the late blow. 

“ How now, thou son of Neptune?’’ called Mons A. to 
Olaf, “that thou can’st prophecy the weather and still 
the storm I grant ye, but would’st escape Charybdis only 
to run on Scylla ?’’ 


to6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Aye, run us there or where he can,” muttered 
another, “ for verily are we here becalmed.” 

Luckily their late brisk sail had brought the party near that 
arm of Lake Maelar which opens northward to receive the 
little river Fyris whereon sits historic Upsala. They were 
under the lee of a wooded islet to which a few oar- 
strokes soon brought them. At half-past two o’clock 
a deepening tinge of dawn was succeeding to the fading 
Borealis, when as they touched the beach. Nils K. 
sprang ashore, declaring he felt the dangerous hunger of 
a cannibal, and food must be forth coming if only for the 
sheerest protection of his comrades. 

Promptly they landed, and, unloading the provisions 
from the forecastle, hastened preparations for breakfast. 

“ And by all the gods at once !” said the exuberant 
Nils, “ if here be not more of that life-charming coffee ! 
Was e'er noble hostess so thoughful, *so quietly gener- 
ous ?” 

A fire being quickly started, Ebba improvised a spread 
on the granite boulders and essayed the making of the 
coffee. Soon its quickening aroma met the watery exhal- 
ations and mingled with the scent of the island woods. 
And such a feast as was devoured in that fresh morning 
air ! In their contagious fierceness of purpose the Misess 
Backstrom found no opening for gossip, the lanquid young 
scion yawned in compliant mastication, the marble face of 
Lady Iduna warmed with speechless content, and soon 
there was no partaker who could resist the color and glow 
of satiated hunger. 

Pursuant to the suggestion of the Generalskan, they 
had sent Olaf forward in the skiff to deliver her letter and 
return with Herr Rudbeck. Following after, they slowly 
rounded into the fjord, and with reviving wind ascended 
the narrowing inlet. 

“ O yonder, do see,” cried Ebba from the bow, “ that 
swaying line of varying colors ; are not they the nodding 
fritillaries ?” 

“ What is that, then?” inquired Halvor, with a desper- 
ate effort to be more at ease, and seemingly jealous of even a 
presuming plant in “ nodding ” at Ebba. 

“The nodding fritillaries?” she said. “Have you 
heard then of it, no? Oh, ’tis the famous new flowering 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


107 

plant introduced by Olof Rudbeck into the meadows here- 
about. Does it not wave gracefully ?” 

“Yes,” said the observing Lars, “and it groweth with 
more beauty and abundance as we ascend the Fyris. 
Rudbeck truly does nothing by halves ; he did give this 
royal plant a wide setting out through all this region, and 
’twill be ever living and worthy monument to his public 
spirit.” 

Halvor turned to observe more closely the waving fritil- 
laries which traced the dividing line between meadow and 
upland, when upon rounding a wooded point another ob- 
ject attracted his attention. 

“ What think you,” said he, “ can be that lonely thing 
in yonder distance ? Can it mark the site of old Sigtuna?” 

“ ’Tis e’en so,” said Lars. “ It stands where we may 
look for Sigtuna’ s old tower : and see, as the sun touches 
it his of gray color : yes, and now as we turn, ’tis plainly of 
square form. Methinks it can be naught but the famed 
square tower of Odin’s dwelling place.” 

“ Bravo ! hear ye ? Sigtuna !” burst Mons A. “ Now 
should ’st our brave Generalskan be here to give us rapt 
speech of Sigtuna ; of the old gray tower of historic Sig- 
tuna, sacred home of the Father of the Gods !” 

“ Nay, not so fast,” said Hal\4or. “ Heavenly beings 
with earthly abodes ? E’en Swedish gods were scarce so 
doubly possessed, or if so their worldly dwelling place was 
Upsala not Sigtuna.” 

“Right,” said Lars; “here lived the historic Odin. 
Whate’er we may think of the marvellous things credited 
to the mythological hero, reasonably certain is it that the 
leader of a great movement of people from Asia settled 
with his followers here in Sigtuna?” 

“Is so much, then,” said Halvor, “deemed veritable 
truth ? And doth authentic history as well concede that 
Odin’s follower. King Frey, did push further north and 
build the gorgeous temple Upp-sala, lofty hall of the gods, 
e’en where now stands our modern Upsala?” 

“All this,” replied Lars, “ and all that followeth from 
it, may not indeed be wholly conceded by exacting his- 
torians, but the learned Rudbeck, methinks, so believes, 
and ’tis thought the preponderance of candid inquiry doth 


Ebba Borjeson. 


jo8 

support this view. But we will further discourse of this. 
Let us now land and look about the ancient spot. ’ ’ 

And the party, stepping ashore, roamed over the low 
hill upon which is clustered the little village of Sigtuna. 
It gave even then few traces of that olden glory which had 
its beginning before the Christian era and which steadily 
waxed with reverent splendor until plundered of its treas- 
ures by East Baltic vikings some five hundred years be- 
fore. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Returning to the lugger, the part}^ were about to pro- 
ceed when a little boat with graceful swell of canvas hove 
in sight and bore down to them from up the little stream. 
It contained the Olaf they had sent forward and the 
learned Olof Rudbeck. The latter gave our party a cor- 
dial welcome. He was a man of striking appearance. 
With quick nervous movements, he had a kindl}^ yet 
piercing eye, a deeply thoughtful face marked by strong 
lines indicating both untiring energy and buoyant hope. 
“ The Generaiskan’s friends are my friends,’’ he declared, 
“ she is a noble and gracious lady, a friend of learning, of 
religion and of our dear Sweden old and new. Most 
proud is Olof Rudbeck to serve her in aught she may 
command. Welcome, friends, for her sake and yours !” 
Such a hearty welcome in words and manner inspired our 
excursionists with new spirit and they at once re-embarked 
and proceeded on their northward course. 

“These shores,” continued Rudbeck, “ abound in rem- 
iniscences interesting alike to scholar, historian and pa- 
triot, but from what I hear of your plans there will be 
time to profit from but few of them. We will go first to 
Skokloster.” 

“ Herr Rudbeck,’’ said Lars, “ this old Sigtuna has led 
us to speak of Odin. Will you favor us with the fa 
greater knowledge of Olof Rudbeck upon this matter? 
Tell us, pray, was there truly an Odin of authentic his- 
tory not less than of mythology ?’’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


109- 

“ Odin’s history,” replied Rudbeck, his face eager with 
arousing interest, ” is as authentic as that of Moses and 
like unto it in most essentials?” 

‘ ‘ Pray how is that, then !” 

“ Both were leaders, both law-givers, both deliverers of 
their people.” 

“ Odin, a leader, yes ; a lawyer, mayhap but how a 
deliverer, then ?” 

” He delivered his people from Asiatic, e’en as did 
Moses from Egyptian servitude. Moreover, Odin in com- 
ing hither returned to e’en a more veritable home of his 
fathers than was Palestine to the returning Israelites.” 

” Indeed ! Now, kind friend, how showest us these 
strange things ? How prove what is not new only 
but what overturns all that scholars commonly hgld ?” 

” Craving pardon, good friends, here is neither time 
nor occasion to enlarge upon a theme so great ; but I shall 
amply make good the saying in my forthcoming book 
"Atlantica' and therein proye to candid searchers that here 
in our Sweden was the original home of the human race, 
and that our dear old Norse was the first form of human 
speech !” 

“ What marvel is this, then ? Do thou show forth that 
and our Swede pride shall have no bounds, e’en as its 
reverent home-love should know fewer limits. An thou 
prove so much the discoverer thereof should be exalted 
e’en with the proud and reverent northland.” 

“ For exaltation care I naught except as truth exalteth. 
But, verily, then, ’twould be no task to establish such 
truth but for the subsequent vandalism so long pursued 
’round these shores. E’en in our Sigtuna here the truth 
could be partly shown had it not so suffered from succes- 
sive ravages and been finall}^ laid waste by the Esthonians 
in 1187. It could be shown in massive Wisby, which did 
a vast caravan trade betwixt the silks of the east and the 
metals of Sweden e’en before London and Paris were 
aught but pastoral towns. It can be shown by runic in- 
scriptions and by e’er thickening relics of the stone and 
bronze ages, and divers silent links connecting Scandi- 
navia with pre-historic man. But here we enter the 
strait of Ericssund, leading to the bay and castle of Sko.” 

After a tedious passage of the narrow channel, the lug- 


no 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


ger glided upon ths darkened bosom of the forest-bound 
bay, and soon there loomed through the trees the four 
great towers of the huge pile of Skokloster ; then, as 
they approached the landing, the whole massive structure 
lay square and white against a background of commingled 
woods and sky. 

“ Ah castle, most superb !” exclaimed the countess, as 
they walked up the gentle slope, “ but shockingly spruce 
and new looking. Where’s its ivy? It should look grim 
rather than prim, and in sooth these white stiff walls 
should be vine-clad and battered to give savor of hoary 
chivalry.” 

” Yes, ’tis prim and well-kept,” said Mr. Rudbeck, “for 
’twas built by the Count Karl von Wrangle only about 
thirty years ago. But new as it is, it marks a spot and 
reeks of a past than which perhaps no place newer than 
ancient Rome can breath more masterfully. According to 
the earliest historical records here stood a fortified castle 
where lived many of the pagan kings for the first thous- 
and years of the Christian era. On this spot stood a sup- 
pressed convent of Cistercian nuns, which succeeded a 
still older Dominican monastary then in the hands of the 
noble family of Brahes ; and both in historic prestige and 
present completeness of structure, is this a most fitting 
abode for an able and trusted ofiicer of our great Gustavus 
Adolphus. After that chief fell, indeed we scarce know 
how our army would have fared at Lutzen but for this 
valiant General von Wrangel, who held the field until the 
timely coming of Gen. Torstenson to complete the victory. 
King Adolphus, ’tis said, had given the estate to General 
Wrangel’s father, the old field marshal, and this illus- 
trious family intermarried with the noble Brahes by whom 
his still held.” 

The party had been gazing about at the outside sur- 
roundings, and now, after pausing before the principal en- 
trance bearing the Wrangel coat-of-arms, they passed 
under the eight-pillared arch of the vestibule. 

” These pillars,” said their chaperon, ” are of the finest 
Ionic marble, and were presented by our lavish Queen 
Christina to General Wrangel to reward his military ser- 
vices, but I hear that Count Nils Brahe, the present holder, 
is in much trouble concerning them by reason of the resti- 


Ebba Borjeson. 


Ill 


tution of the crown estates required under our reigning 
Charles and the great sum that must be paid to redeem 
them.” 

The party followed their leader through the spacious 
apartments, examining their numberless paintings and 
precious relics. And an exhaustless store of treasures the 
vast building contained. Sometimes the}^ seemed to have 
entered a temple of magic bewilderment, from which the 
puttering present was excluded. All about they felt the 
hush of the historic past. Portraits of kings and queens, 
of nobles and statesmen, of beautiful women and valiant 
warriors, gazed at the visitors from corridors, stairways, 
galleries and tapestried rooms. Richly inlaid cabinets of 
curiosities, massive and quaintly carved furniture from 
various old castles, armorial designs exquisitely carved 
and set in gilded adornments, these with nameless costly 
objects of varied origin flashed and repeated themselves 
from the Venetian mirrors, while the stormier eras of the 
past breathed their mute m ssage from a vast collection of 
the armor and weapons of every age and country of the 
world, including the superb shield of the Spanish Em- 
peror Charles V, taken at Prague in 1648. Passing from 
story to story and hastening from one apartment to 
another, the party at length entered the library. At 
once the face of Rudbeck lighted up with quickened in- 
terest. 

“Here,” exclaimed the enthusiast, “is what I most 
prize of all these rich collections. Here we have signifi- 
cant hints, at least, of that earliest occupation of Sweden 
by pre-historic man which my coming ' Atlantic o' shall ex- 
emplify, while in the manuscripts, the printed volumes 
and vast corrsepondence here gathered, is the record of 
our traditional and historic land in every shape and period, 
from runic decipherings and the legendary crudities of the 
vikings to the masterful outcome of our proud Vasa 
dynasty. Were there nothing here but these precious 
originals,” continued the earnest man, turning to a pon- 
derous mass of correspondence, “ ’twould be a treasure 
dear to the hearts of all true Swedes.” Turning at ran- 
dom the ribbed and yellowing leaves embodying the vol- 
uminous correspondence relating to the Thirty Years’ 
War, with the papers of later times, Rudbeck went back to 


1 1 2 Ebb a Borjeson. 

an earlier period, when he shouted with an antiquarian’s 
delight: 

“ Ah, ha ! See what I have here chanced upon. This 
is the original letter signed by King Eric XIV, ordering 
the negotiations for his marriage with Mary Queen of 
Scots.” 

‘‘The perfidious wretch !” exclaimed the Countess B., 
‘‘for at that very moment Eric waspretending to make love 
to Queen Bess of England, and he then made shift and 
wedded that motherless peasant girl, Mansdotter. Prate 
of woman’s coquetry, forsooth !” 

“ Pray, free thy mind, fair Countess,” said merry Mons 
A., ‘‘ we all do know that only our sex is false. In good 
sooth, we might e’en save waste of breath, and once for 
all, dub thy sex constancy. But was’t not fair quits with 
King Eric, when, for playing false ’twixt two queens, he 
was enmeshed with a poor peasant girl ?” 

“And call you it punishment — call you it even meted jus- 
tice,” replied the Countess, “when a false and cruel king, 
upon being thwarted in his own rank, gains the faithful 
love of a sweet girl of the people ? Far too good was 
Karin Mansdotter, poor peasant though she was, for this 
brutal Eric XIV.” 

“Now, what would’st, fair friend? This love thou 
pratest of, ’tis but a distemper, like unto ill speech ; least 
said, soonest mended. Nay, ’tis worse — e’en a snare to 
catch the unwary ; the more fair the semblance the more 
dire the catastrophe.” 

“ Provoking beast! for e’en so feel beings without souls. 
Would’st, then, rob the world of its romance? What would 
history be without its crusades, its troubadours, its chiv- 
alry ? What would be literature without license, or life 
without love?” 

“ Or without scarlet rash, measles and misery 1 ” 

“Ah, give me e’en these,” exclaimed the elder Back- 
strom, “give me life’s joys and sorrows. I take ever its 
follies with its fun, — its wickedness with its wisdom. 
Spare me only its hateful good folk — its dreary people 
who are dutiful, not delightful ; spare me its horrid same- 
ness, its soberness, its silence, its — its — ” 

“Sense!” curtly suggested Mons A. in an undertone. 
“ I freely grant you,” he continued, turning again to the 


Ebb a Bojjcson. 


13 


Countess, “ the power and pungency of this thing yclept 
love. ’Tis verily like pepper and other tongue-sharpen- 
ing things with which we do punch lagging appetite, but 
e’en like unto them it fetcheth after flatness to life with 
o’er sated hunger, and leadeth e'en safe-blooded folk to 
snarl at the tameness o’ the world, e’en when it be not 
burdened with ‘ sour-eyed disdain ’ and blear-eyed des- 
pair. ’ ’ 

" Hear ye, then ! Here verily is both a bachelor Solo- 
mon berating the world’s vanity, and a warning Ovid 
prating learnedly of that passion whereof he boasteth he 
feels not at all. Could perversity further go?” 

“ Far enough candor can go, at least,” said Mons A., 

‘ ' to see the greater perversity of a vaunted passion whose 
ecstacy is clo\^ed with excess, whose yearnings turn to 
yawns, whose woes should be its warnings. Nay, now, 
Cupid’s gay champion had’st better confess the wayward 
boy for a weakling, a sorry urchin with an urchin’s ail- 
ments, to be endured till cured.’’ 

As if startled from a listening reverie, Ebba was but 
dimly conscious of what she did when in a faltering un- 
dertone and with a fixed side gaze as to an invisible audi- 
tor, she followed the last speaker with the words : “Love 
is giver of Life and conqueror of Death. It is the mar- 
tyr’s crown, the exile’s solace. Love is the gift of gifts ; 
self-requiting, all-sufficing, it attests our kinship with 
God, the author and essence of love. Without it we 
wander in outer darkness ; with it we have guidance 
through the end all of earth to the all in all of Heaven.” 

Stopping abruptly, as if recalled to herself, the speaker’s 
pale cheeks colored with confusion as she turned and ran 
from the room. The company were hushed by the grave 
intensity of her utterance, and a murmur of applause 
marked their release from the tension of the moment. Nor 
was it but an episode of the moment to one particular 
member of the party ; for Halvor Mondahl, it is safe to 
assume, remembered to his dying day alike the few words 
spoken and the white and rapt countenance of the speaker. 
Happy the man, he thought, great or lucky enough to in- 
cite and receive such love ! And for one. such loving gaze 
as he had seen her cast upon that handsome stranger ? — the 
man so enriched need care little indeed for aught else the 
8 


14 


Ebb a Boijeson. 


world ma}^ hold ! Then once more failing hope grappled 
with despair; for an instant Halvor’s earthly foothold 
seemed swept from under him, and with a great sad throb 
he caught his breath with the sense of being severed b}" 
a widening void from her who had unconsciously fed the 
yearnings of his heart. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

From the library of the great Castle the party visited 
various apartments in due order and then returned for a 
last look at the picture galleries. 

“Oh, that lovely face!” exclaimed the Countess B. 
“ Can I be mistaken ? Ah, no ; the sunny hair, the clear 
sweet depths of those matchless eyes, that dreamy sad- 
ness of expression — these belonged to no other than the 
fair face of Ebba Brahe. A royal face had’st thou with 
all its sweetness, and a royal fate should have been thine, 
e’en the queenl^^ fate to which thou wast chosen by thy 
lover-king Adolf.” 

“ But thou can’stnot charge the king as the false one,” 
said Mons A., “ for the fair Ebba wedded another e’en as 
the loving Adolf was hastening to the rescue.” 

“ Aye, but she was cruelly driven to the sacrifice by the 
queen-mother. The king alone could have saved her, and 
this he should have done. The lovers’ hearts were joined 
from childhood on earth, and naught earthly should have 
severed them. But here’s a vast array of portraits verily; 
prithee, whose then be these? Though a man’s face, I 
e’en fancy it hath resemblance to the beautiful Ebba.” 

“Aye, the family features,” said Rudbeck ; “ that is the 
portrait of Tycho Brahe, the great astronomer, whose ob- 
servatory was the most splendid in Europe, and who, 
making great additions to the science, was justly called 
‘ the restorer of astronomy.’ Great aristocrat though he 
was, he married a peasant girl, and with prejudices against 
authors and teachers became himself masterful and cele- 
brated in both capacities.” 

“ Worthy of his kinswoman Ebba in his marriage and in 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


115 

his science,” said the Countess. “Love and learning 
against the world in arms ; their's is the world’s supreniest 
voice.” 

“Worthy truly the noble Brahes,” said Rudbeck, “to 
rank among the best in our kingdom in e’en more ways ; 
for St. Brigitta, the holy patroness of our Sweden, was by 
birth a Brahe ; and this, the family vSeat, hath ever been 
famous in religion, war, love and statecraft. Observe ye, 
the great hall of the kings, and the gobelins tapestry, 
ivories, amber and crystals ; notice ye the armory hall 
which, besides its vast store of ancient weapons, contains 
nigh unto a thousand different patterns of muskets, and 
above all admired ye not the noble library we visited ? 
Amid so many precious things, we might well spend weeks 
in lieu of hours ; but time hastens and we have much to 
see.” 

Returning to their vessel the party resumed their north- 
ward course, and soon entered the narrow channel of the 
Fyris. 

“This little river,” said their chaperon, “has long 
been a fond theme of song and story, and ’tis a vital vein 
closest the ancient heart of our Sweden. Below us, after 
leaving Sigtuna, we passed Aske, Hotunaholm and Kric- 
sund; and as we ascend the stream, we approach that Up- 
sala of which all true Swedes are as proud as the cradle of 
the traditions, religion and literature of all Scandinavian 
nationalities. Now, as we emerge from the forest, observe 
if you will, a vast plain stretching away on the right: and 
yonder in the distance you vSee the church of Danmark, 
where a famous victory was won over the invading Danes 
centuries ago, when they were pillaging the rich shores of 
lake Maelar: and yonder see ye those mounds which 
seem to round against the horizon, with a little church near 
by ? Those are then the famous tumuli of the old gods 
Odin, Thor and Frey. And now we begin to see 3’onder 
on the hill that two-towered, old red castle, where Queen 
Christina abdicated, and caused the bell on the adjoining 
green to be erected and ever after rung for the peace of 
her soul.” 

‘ ‘ Methinks the remedy was scare adequate to such ail- 
ments as were that troubled queens.” 

“ Sore astray, indeed,” replied Rudbeck, “went our 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


1 16 

wayward Christina ; yet had Sweden ne’er a truer friend 
to learning. A strange queen was she, and her own worst 
enemy, yet scarce did her royal father, the great Adolphus, 
more exalt the military glory of our Sweden than the 
daughter its scholarly footing among the nations of 
Europe. But here, my friends, we will land.” 

And so the party followed their chaperon up into the 
ancient town of Upsala. It was gay with garlands and 
festoons, with swaying pendants and green wreaths. 
Graceful ‘ arches of intertwined flags and evergreens 
spanned the main entrance to the Cathedral and public 
places, while extemporized groves and brightly dressed 
poles everywhere smiled Midsummer greetings to our 
visitors. The festival was then under the kindly super- 
vision of the Lutheran Church, and the people, having at- 
tended religious services as a necessary preliminary, were 
now giving themselves up to gayeties of every kind. A 
merry procession of the University students was led by 
harlequins and grotesque figures, and all classes and ages 
contributed in some way either to the exuberant frolic or 
soberer observances oi the day.” 

After watching for a time these various pastimes, our 
friends began an extensive course of sight-seeing. They 
visited the venerable Cathedral, the great University and 
the then splendid Castle of Upsala. They saw the tombs 
of Gustavus Vasa and of his two wives, Catharine and the 
sweet and beloved Margaretha ; they saw the great 
Museum, the picture gallery of the Swedish kings, the 
collection of precious relics and the robe room of old 
embroidered and blood-stained garments. They were 
permitted to touch that vastly treasured frontlet of St. 
Brita, which was covered with gold and set in pearls and 
precious stones ; the}^ gazed reverently at the shrine of 
gilt silver containing the bones of St. Eric ; they looked 
curiously at the two historic hones which King Albert 
sent to the Swedish Margaret with the admonition to 
sharpen well her household needles instead of the 
weapons of the war she threatened; and they beheld 
the pierced and faded garments stained with the blood of 
Count Svante Sture, when he and his sons were cruelly 
put to death by the half crazy Eric XIV. And so they 


Ebb a Borjeso 7 i. 1 1 y 

went on, viewing one object after another of quaint or 
historic interest. 

“ And greatest of all,” exclaimed the earnest Rudbeck, 
in a tone of hushed reverence, ” here is the great library, 
the pride of Sweden, with its rare collection of old manu- 
scripts. And now, good friends,” continued the enthusi- 
ast, his eyes all aflame with a strange light of awed tri- 
umph, “you stand before the relic of relics, perchance 
the rarest manuscript extant, and of a verity the most 
priceless treasure to all peoples of the Teutonic stock; for 
this,” he continued, taking up a large red parchment, ” is 
the celebrated, the e’er precious "Codex Arge/iteus,' the 
oldest translation of the gospels into the oldest of the dia- 
lectic languages of our mother Gothic. • It is, you ob- 
serve, on imperishable parchment with movable silver let- 
ters ; it contains i88 folios, and the work is in the parental 
Gothic made by Bishop Ulphilas more than a thousand 
years before the art of printing was discovered.” 

” Is e’en so much then will attested?” enquired Lars. 
“What date beareth it?” 

” ’Twas a work of time,” answered Rudbeck; ” it was 
done during the twenty years between A. D. 360 and 380. 
And here,” he continued, turning to another object, “is a 
work of Thomas Aquinas, an early printed book more 
than two hundred years old; and here is a folio Latin 
Bible printed in Nuremberg in 1475, Roman editions of 
Pliny in folio, 1473, Seutonius, 1470, and a Bible 
with the autographs of Luther and Melancthon, to both of 
whom it once belonged. And here, wonderful to relate, 
is the original copy of the old Icelandic Laws, written 
upon vellum ; and more wonderful things yet wherewithal 
to stir our Norse blood, here have we the original manu- 
script of Frithiof’s Saga, the famous Codex in parchment 
of Snorre Sturleson’s Edda, with other sagas and writings 
without number.” 

But the interest of the party in general could not keep 
pace with the zeal of the exhibitor. One after another be- 
gan to lag behind. Halvor was experiencing something 
of the not unusual revulsion between extremes of emo- 
tion. From the tender -and half-awed exaltation of the 
morning at Skokloster he had fallen into a dull mood of 
comparative indifference. He marveled at the kindling 


ii8 


Ebba Borjeson. 


earnestness, the many-sided richness of Ebba’s mental re- 
sources, as well as at her soulful S3’^mpathies. Wav^^er- 
ing between listlessness and self-condemnation, Halvor 
felt cross, and was haE disposed to quarrel with those in 
differing moods. Approaching Ebba as she was listening 
intently to Rudbeck’s explanations of Norse relics, Halvor 
whispered moodily to the young lady: 

“Care you, then, so much for these heathen things?” 
Ebba turned quickly and paused a moment in surprise. 

“ Why. surely,” she said, “ they deeply interest me. 
What can better show than these old chronicles the beau- 
tiful simplicity of a rugged but heroic age ? Rude and. 
blind as they were, these our ancestral legends are full of 
poetic truth.” • 

“Truth! Trashy lies, rather. Whj^ what be these 
vaunted old Eddas and Sagas but tedious relics of what 
did ne’er occur.” 

“ Ne’er occured possibly as to the exact incidents re- 
lated, but scarce less true on that account; for is not truth 
through all time the same ? What difference then the 
form or name? ’Tis little to invent name and place, ’tis 
much if through all fair sooth we trace.” 

Finding she had unconsciously jingled her words in 
rhyme, Ebba quickly added, “With howsoever rough 
habits, our pagan forefathers had tender hearts and surely 
no true act or word is e’er wholly in vain ; ’mid perishing- 
rubbish it liveth ever for us to some good end.” 

Halvor bit his lip and turned away with a half sup- 
pressed growl not indicating any greater satisfaction, at 
least with himself. 

The sight-seeing steadily continued till the whole party 
confessed themselves wearied out and they easily ^delded 
to the persuasions of their kind entertainer to abandon 
their original purpose of starting that day upon their 
return voyage. Food and lodging, simple in form but 
ample for their wants, ensured comfort and rest after the 
day’s fatigue. A late dinner under the trees welcomed 
the party from their weary examinations, and long they 
enjoyed the delicious summer twilight of that high lati- 
tude. The night’s sleep was so sound and long that the 
early sun had coursed many hours in the tranquil sky 
before the guests reappeared in the morning. 


Ebb a Borjesaii. 


119 

“And now, good friends,” said the host, as the party 
rose from the breakfast, “ we go, if you will, to the dwell- 
ing place of the early gods.” 

“Nay,” said the merry Mons, “ methinks, then, we 
scarce be all prepared for so prompt a summons to that 
last abode. It may depend, perchance, upon whether the 
direction be upward or downward.” 

“Neither; betwixt the two; ’tis an earthly abiding place, 
where rest the bones of Odin, Thor and Frey, who were 
more concerned, mayhap, with our pagan ancestors than 
with us; albeit they have had, perchance, more to do with 
shaping the ideas and names of the present than we wot 
of, since we unconsciously bear them remembrance every 
time we mention their namesakes Wednesday (Odin’s- 
day), Thursday, (Thor’s day) and Friday (Frey’s day).” 

The party, taking conveyance, rode to the famous 
meadow of Mora and viewed the platform of rock and the 
stony records of the kings who, until the crown became 
hereditary in the Vasa dynasty, were formally elected to 
the Swedish throne. Then they turned to the famous 
tumuli of the Scandinavian gods. 

“ From one of these three largest mounds,” said Rud- 
beck, “ the royal addresses were made to the people in 
ancient times; from another our Father-monarch Gustavus 
Vasa haranged the peasants, in 1526, in behalf of the Re- 
formation. Upon a bright fair day, ’tis related the king 
rode up the hill between the archbishop on his right and 
the chancellor on his left, and there declaimed to a 
mighty concourse against the Romish faith; but the people 
heeded him little at first, for the priests had firmly set 
their hearts against the new belief.” 

“And that ruddy-faced peasant yonder,” said the 
Countess B., “I e’en fancy must be faithful Sven Elfsson 
or a lineal descendant of the true. hearted patriot who hid 
the fugitive king in his barn. How prone is the mind to 
shape for itself in palpable presence the shadowy persons 
and places we read of, and that honest face with its blue 
eyes and crown of flaxen hair truly belongs to the hero my 
fancy pictures as the rustic guardian of our hunted Gusta- 
vus. But what church see we on the middle mound 
here ?” 

“ ’Tis said to date back long e’en before Christian era 


I 20 


Ebb a Borjcsoii. 


and was used by our pagan ancestors. The mounds them- 
selves, whether or not the burial places of heathen 
deities, were beyond doubt the receptacles for the human 
dead as far back as the bronze age.” 

“ Where, then,” enquired the Countess, ” was the ex- 
act site of the mighty heathen temple of Upp-sala, the 
lofty hall of the gods, with its shining roof and pillars of 
gold keeping company with the mystic tree Yggdrasil?” 

“The heathen temple of fabulous size and splendor,” 
replied Rudbeck, “stood exactly where now stands our 
proud old cathedral, the heathen structure e’en with the 
heathen faith having been supplanted b}" the temple 
and religion of Christianity. We will notice the place 
closely upon our return.” 

From the top of the mounds, to which some of the party 
ascended, a view was obtained of an extended plain over 
which hundreds of smaller mounds seemed tobe scattered 
for miles around. On their return, the three towers of the 
grand old Cathedral thrust their lofty spires into the 
bright morning sky. Rudbeck kept his e3"es impatiently 
upon them. He seemed intent upon resuming the subject 
that. engrossed his heart. 

“ There,” he exclaimed, as the3Mieared the old edifice, 
“ is a structure of which all true Swedes have a right to 
feel proud — proud because in itself it is a noble specimen 
of primitive Gothic, proud because as such it is a fitting 
place of worship for our dear Lutheran service, and proud 
above all, mayhap, because it marks the exact spot to 
which the ancient Northmen were proud to trace the 
source of their religion, their several nationalities and the 
royalty of their kings. Yes, ah yes, there stood the mag- 
nificent temple of those Upp-sala gods who were exalted 
by the magical Yggdrasil in dazzling splendor above all 
other gods, even as the Upsala kings by their loftier 
authority were the paiental fountain head and source of 
all the kingly lines of Scandinavian peoples.” 

A quiet smile was exchanged among the party at the 
hone.st enthusiasm of the worthy man; and it was with 
something of fond regret that they soon took leave of 
their hospitable host. The Generalskan had spoken truly 
when she averred that Olof Rudbeck did nothing b^' 
halves. Intensely earnest was he in all that engaged 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


21 


thought or action. Something of a visionary and not 
without something of the slip-shod logic that character- 
izes visionaries, he was one of those men of generous 
faith and action who do more for their fellows than for 
themselves — one whose sorest yet greatest destiny it is to 
live in advance of their time. Thus was it with Olof 
Rudbeck; he 'was a forerunner in some degree in three dis- 
tinct lines of progression wherein three of his own coun- 
trymen afterward rose to eminence — Swedenborg, in learn- 
ing and theosophy; Linnaeus, in botany and natural 
science, and Ericsson, in engineering invention. 

With many kindly assurances the party started upon 
their homeward voyage. Threading their devious way 
down the storied Fyris they at length swept into the Sko- 
fjord or wooded bay of Skokloster. The white walls of 
the castle gleamed fitfully through the woods as they 
passed, and the one grey tower of old Sigtuna seemed to 
touch the quiet sk\ with more pathetic loneliness. Since 
early morning the wind had been freshening, and as they 
rounded into the lake the little craft flew before a brisk 
wind from the northeast. The few clouds which had 
floated over the morning sky disappeared with the in- 
creasing breeze, and as they went careering over the beau- 
tiful lake the spirits of the party quickened into enthu- 
siasm. Again and again they demanded of each other 
whether there was ever such luck, — whether with bright- 
ening skies and favoring winds both coming and returning 
they were not the luckiest sea-dogs — the veriest heirs of 
the old vikings. 

“With something of their vagrancy,” suggested 
Mons A., “and, mayhap, more of their lusty skill at 
gobbling from their fellows, judging by the way we 
coolly pirated the time and provisions of our generous 
host yonder. In sooth, the recast of an old .song might 
e’en run thus : 

‘ The Northman sails both north and south. 

Sees many things and takes ’em all ; 

At one he glares with woful ruth. 

The other ’neath his teeth doth fall.’ ” 

“ Bravo, Mons! Repeat and we join thee;” and so a 
roaring chorus swelled over the bounding waves in keep- 
ing with their riotous rhythm. On the larboard side, the 


122 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


sun as it swept ’round flashed billowy masses of light 
into' their half-blinded e3^es; and as they rose and fell 
with the increasing swell, their craft with a resounding 
dash and shower at her prow seemed a conscious sharer 
in the general hilarity. 

Amid such influences the party were little conscious of 
the lapse of time; and as little idea had they of the sharp 
hunger with which they were soon to feel the reaction 
from their sight-seeing gayeties. With continued merri- 
ment they had long been speeding among the lake’s 
picturesque isles when suddenly Nils K. declared they 
had fed so much on romance and historical remains that 
he, for one, was in danger of bodily starvation. Was 
there, he wondered, a chance bear or musk-ox on any of 
these islands ? He was in a condition to eat or be eaten 
by the creature, and he didn’t much care which, unless he 
got relief soon. In quick response came a proposal to 
make a landing and have luncheon. It was approved 
with merry shouts and clapping of hands, and it was as 
promptly acted upon as an inviting grove of pine and 
linden trees hove into view from a near islet. 

Sweepin ’round under the shady lee of the selected isle, 
the party landed. The bank proved to be steeper than 
was supposed, and Halvor stationed himself to aid the 
ladies in making safe transit from boat to shore. And 
now, was it an accident that the elder Backstrom lost her 
balance and with a wild scream well nigh swooned into 
the rescuing amis extended to her ? So the fair Iduna was 
neither giddy nor heavy; she was moulded in long lines 
and slender roundness of form, and she stepped from the 
deck with the regal calm of a queen: was it, then, with a 
suspicious helplessness that she found it necessary to lean 
upon Halvor’ s manly arm in ascending to the top of the 
shore. Ebba, when her turn came, bounded from the lug- 
ger and sprang up the bank like a deer, without touching 
Halvor’ s hand, and possibly without conducing to his 
peace of heart: and, moreover, her swift movement quite 
discomfited the young scion and his limp companion, who 
narrowly' escaped a common catastrophe as they affected 
to labor with equal helplessness up the bank. 

They selected a luring spot in the carpeted shade of 
pine trees, where a couple of lindens, in company with a 


Ebb a Boi'jesoii. 


23 


lofty elm and some white-limbed birch, broke the darker 
mass of the jagged fir. Here they seated themselves, and 
drawing again upon the ample stores provided by the 
Generalskan, they savagely devoured their repast. So in- 
tent were they upon this that few of them had noticed the 
charm of the spot. Between the trunks of the shoreward 
trees the flashing lake heightened the grateful sense of the 
cooling shade; the breeze toyed with the branches; bull- 
finches enlivened them with song, and the waves plashed 
gleefully over the neighboring rocks. Near at hand the 
rose-colored haresfoot blushed from the greensward, some 
delayed anemones in their retarding shade trembled upon 
their delicate stems, while on a cool northern exposure, a 
few tardy cowslips and primroses peeped from last year’s 
herbage amid a scattered abundance of fir and pine cones, 
which imparted a balsamic quality to the scent of the 
summer woods. 

Finishing a feast varied with banter and sport, the party 
lapsed into listless attitudes lulled by sweet and tuneful 
surroundings. Halvor, seated a little behind Ebba, 
watched her raven tresses play in the wind. Plucking 
some flowers within reach, he stealthily held them near 
her head to observe the effect of their varied tints in toned 
proximity to the young girl's white neck and black hair. 
The movement caught the eye of the observing Ears, who 
slyly nodded to the merry Mons, and speedily, one after 
another, heeding the chuckling signals, stole away un- 
noticed by Ebba, who continued absorbed in the natural 
sights and sounds about her. 

Halvor soon became aware of the conspiracy, and his 
face glowed with the agitation of mixed joy and alarm. 
Wary silence was dispelled by the rustling foliage and^^ 
plashing waves, but these only isolated him with the sense 
of exclusive possession. He felt a choking tremor at his 
heart and dreaded the breaking of the spell. Its giddy 
delirium for a moment merged heaven and earth in bliss- 
ful union, and prodding consciousness was lulled to rest. 
Dare he but touch the hem of the garment that enfolded 
her ! A loud laugh from the retreating conspirators re- 
called the young lady to herself. With a flushed face and 
cry of surprise she sprang to her feet and ran to join the 
others. 


124 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Thej^ were strolling through the park-like grove, gather- 
ing flowers and wandering on the beach in search of peb- 
bles. Disregarding their quizzical hints and glances, 
Ebba busil}^ entered into their occupation for a time, and 
then found a bushy nook overlooking a point of rocks 
thrust out into the lake. Here she seated herself to watch 
and hear the waves lash themselves into foam over the 
granite boulders. Halvor, having followed on, joined in 
the talk and lazy pursuit of the others and tried to be 
pleasantly indifferent to their rallying fun. But he was ill 
at ease; and upon discovering Ebba’s retreat contrived by 
degrees to saunter away, and at length turned and bent 
his way to her presence. With one arm encircling a jagged 
point of rock she was dreaniil}^ watching the coquetting 
winds and waters along the overhung beach. 

“Again in reverie?’’ ventured the intruder, from a half 
concealed position in her rear. 

The lady gave a start and gazed around, but seeing no 
one and thinking the noisy waters had deceived her, re- 
sumed her listless attitude. The words were repeated. 

“ Ah, then,’’ she said, seeing the speaker, “ ’tis Herr 
Mondahl.” 

“ Dost regret it, then; would’st be alone ?’’ 

“ I was listening to the prattle of these waves.’’ 

“Preferring it doubtless to the prattle of your com- 
rades.’’ 

“ Nay, say not so; ’twas neither in my speech nor 
thought. With their talk I find no fault.’’ 

“ Why, then, flee from it?’’ 

“Sometimes, methinks, from the dearest, closest speech 
— nay, e’en from our own thoughts we would fain be 
free.’’ 

“ Because they are evil perchance.’’ 

“ Nay, at times e’en when good. Of the best spoken 
words, howe’er witty or wise, may not one grow weary ? 
’Tis then nature’s simple sights and sounds do most re- 
fresh us.’’ 

“ Bah, an idle fancy; co nage of dreams, or worse.’’ 

“ Are then, the scent of these words, the murmur of 
these waters, naught to Herr Mondahl ?’’ 

Halvor, with an impatient gesture, lapsed into moody 
silence and the two continued gazing upon the lake. The 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


125 


young man seemed pleased with neither noise nor quiet, 
but he presently broke forth — 

“ Methinks Mamsell Borjeson careth more for dead na- 
ture than living.” 

“ Dead nature ?” 

“ Aye, what of these lifeless objects and cold — what 
speak such speechless things, forsooth ?” 

“ Articulate words, mayhap, they have not, nor always 
interpretable language, but have not they surely that 
which doth pique and lure to companionship as well? See, 
here be both glacial and runic marks. Say these naught 
to whomsoe’er will read ? But deeper down have these 
rocks something e’en dear to us as mute breathings of the 
ages agone. Nay, methinks they do at times hint of peace 
and trust, whose verity may even solace our human 
falsehood and cruelty. And oh. I sometimes do long for 
the power to conjure the secrets from their stony hearts.” 

“ Secrets !” exclaimed Halvor, “ 'Tis after all then, 
but a matter for woman’s curiosity !” and as he turned im- 
patiently away he added in an undertone, “ and hath 
woman’s curiosity no bounds, even with Ebba Borjeson?” 

The young man continued muttering to himself as he 
wandered off, but as his vexation quieted his reflections 
re-awakened. Here, then, was a tender young girl of a 
deeply religious nature, who avowed sympathies and 
thoughts pertaining to the veriest paganism; who could 
see diamonds in plashing waters, hear music in winds and 
waves, and rave over the eloquence of dumb rocks. A 
compound seemed she indeed of warring and balanced 
elements, and her many-sided character was a perpetual 
enigma to him. Why was the very air pervaded by the 
words of one who spoke so little ? How could there be 
such depth of expression in a face ordinarily passive and 
colorless, and how such abounding presence in one who 
sought to avoid him ? Why such agile strength in so 
lithe a body and such reserved force with so little self- 
assertion ? Why mu.st he instinctively confess her super- 
iority by mutely deferring to her opinions and feelings ? 
Why must he make her umpire infallible over the soul’s 
conflicts as well as priestess of its mj^sterious worship- 
pings ? Why this resistless drawing toward a maddening 
girl who seemingly cared less to please than to thwart 


126 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


him; and why, above all, must such a wayward creature, 
while holding him captive, herself soar free as a bird ?” 

With such metaphysical subtleties young Halvor lashed 
himself to exasperation, only to end with renewed alleg- 
iance to the girl who enthralled him. For when he had 
cudgelled his analytical powers to the brink of despair, he 
was not enlightened beyond the renewed feeling that this 
girl who had neither beauty nor winning graces, reached 
true ends more by simple intuition than labored acquisi - 
tion; that if she had scant reverence for authority she 
had the more devotion to loyal truth as she saw it; that 
she was above small talk and conventional pettiness and 
finally that with all his disquietudes he felt himself a bet- 
ter and stronger man in her presence, confessing that her 
readier insight and truer aspirations, while vexing him 
with a strange sense of elusive power, constantly incited 
him to worthier purposes. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A summons to resume their voyage recalled Halvor 
from his reflections, and re-assembled the party at the 
mooring place on the island beach. The wind was in- 
creasing and they sought to take advantage of it before it 
should change its course or too much gather or weaken 
its force. At various times they had consulted with each 
other respecting the extent of their excursion. Some 
had earnestly desired to visit ancient Vesteras and others 
favored sailing westward as far as venerable Fiholm, 
linked with the memory of the great minister Oxenstjern; 
then to return past the island of Tostero to view its 
ancient church, and visit historic Strengnas with its still 
older Cathedral; but it was thought so long a trip might 
involve too much delay from contrary winds or too much 
labor from the required use of the oars: and so it was 
finally agreed to bear to starboard only far enough from 
the homeward route to admit of a visit to the Castle of 
Gripsholm. 

Bearing wreaths, flowers, pebbles and other trophies 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


127 


from the little isle, the party re-embarked. They had 
hardly straightened out from under the leeward shore 
before the sails swelled with the stiff northeast wind and 
bellied low with quickening speed. Busy talk at first kept 
pace with the scudding speed of the lugger, but gradually 
the company became silent as if lulled by the singing 
wind and steady swell of the waves. Halvor was more 
at peace with himself, but his abstracted air continued. 
If only with the interest borrowed from Ebba he was 
learning to take notice of transient objects and sights 
which are never absent from the watchful eye. He 
noticed the dancing shadows which the larch and jagged 
fir and branching elm were throwing over their pathway 
between the islands; he found himself watching the 
the changeful contrasts between the shoreward roll of 
the darkened waves and their sunny flashings in the out- 
ward expanse, and he detected a wild grace he had not 
before observed in an occasional white-cap which crested 
the saucier billows in the distance. 

While thus absorbed, Halvor happened to glance sud- 
denly around and caught the eyes of lady Iduna fixed 
steadily upon him; and he thought he saw in them a half 
rapt and peculiar expression unusual to their calm depths. 
He was as startled as if with earthly yearnings the serene 
face of a Madonna had suddenly looked forth at him from 
canvas or marble. Ah, the mysteries of our human heart! 
Not more are its secrets yielded to the enlightened than 
were they to the darkest ages. In all else it is unsafe to 
predict limits to a progressive future; in the heart’s realms 
it is safe to expect that the old, old story will be just as 
old and just as new to the latest as it proved to the earliest 
children of men. Just how far the worship of simple per- 
sonal beauty is a legitimate and ennobling emotion has 
never been settled by any class of searchers or thinkers. 
While they are settling it, it is probable that the coolest 
young philosophers, hardly less than amorous hot-bloods, 
will lose their equipoise at the first consciousness of being 
closely eyed by a pretty woman. 

At all events, Halvor Mondahl had a queer heart-flut- 
tering when he felt the gaze of the fair Iduna upon him. 
But a moment before he had inwardly renewed his fealty 
to Ebba. His love for her he felt was lifting him to such 


128 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


exaltations as scarcely needed earthly requital. In sub- 
tlest thought, even, he would be true to her; and he had 
just felt with a strange pang of new joy that she must 
more than ever fill and color his world. But if the hunger 
of the soul, unlike that of the body, may be self-appeas- 
ing, it is sometimes at the cost of such desolate aberra- 
tions as suggest the fainting keenness of bodil}'' hunger. 
It was from something akin to this that Halvor suffered. 
His very love transported its idealized object all the fur- 
ther from ' him, while the memory of the handsome 
stranger by re-awakening his jealousy and despair, aided 
to paralyze present efforts to re-approach her. 

It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the young man, 
being human, sometimes had tempting visions of nearer 
fruit not forbidden — of an attainable, if finite heaven. 
For while he had reason to believe that the lady Iduna 
cherished an honest and sympathetic partiality for him, 
and even the chatty Backstrom sometimes brought him 
cheery companionship, the girl who had stolen his heart 
was prone to keep him aloof and treat him with indiffer- 
ence. As before intimated, Halvor Mondahl, while a 
3^oung man of much thought, was little given to analytic 
speculation, and it was natural that his mind should have 
a practical inclination pertaining to thoughts of matrimony, 
in view of his immediate prospect of an honorable career. 
He was soon to reside in London, mingle in high society 
and appear at an exacting diplomatic court. Lady Iduna 
was beautiful and accomplished; she was reputed to have 
large prospective wealth; her person was faultless; her 
disposition lovely; and her bearing marked with such 
graceful stateliness as to challenge criticism from the 
highest circles in Christendom. Could there be a more 
elegant or befitting bride for the brilliant life he was about 
to enter upon ? 

And Ebba ? — He had a guilty sense of shameful treason 
in suffering the comparison: and, to do him justice, Halvor 
refused to permit the confession how few of these showy 
attributes belonged to the girl that possessed his heart. 
But he could not forbear stealing a glance at the two 
women — at the pale dreamy face of Ebba, and at the nobly 
beautiful Iduna, with her countenance aglow with health 
and pleasure, that moment the more impressive as she 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


1 29 

chanced to be standing superbly erect with a gracefully 
steadying arm upon the gunwale. Such a contrast ! 

The young man turned away with a protesting thought, 
when he was roused with the sudden shout "‘hail, old 
Gripsholm! ” Soon among the trees of intervening islands 
the highest tips of the Gripsholm spires flashed in the sun- 
light; and after rounding a wooded point the ancient castle 
with its four red towers loomed above the foliage in near 
company with cloistered Mariefred. While the first view 
of this historic old pile fails of being impressive from its 
lack of an elevated site, it was with a certain bright and 
sturdy picturesqueness that it appeared to our visitors 
from their watery approach to it. Founded by the wealthy 
Bo Jonsson Grip, for whom it was named, as early as 1316, 
it is mentioned in history as an important place under dif- 
ferent names long prior to that year. 

Busy talk and preparations for landing were soon fol- 
lowed by the busier movements of our excursionists. 
Wandering through the castle apartments they gazed at its 
antique furniture, inspected its silver stores, its rare old 
tapestries, its precious relics and curiosities. They were 
shown into its most historic chambers and listened to the 
tragic tales with which its name is linked, and they visited 
the picture galler^^ where they saw portraits of most of the 
sovereigns of Europe as well as of the heroes and kings of 
Sweden, particularly of the entire Vasa dynasty, includ- 
ing that of the unfortunate Eric XIV, painted by himself. 

Gripsholm was one of the many monastic establish- 
ments seized by Gustavus Vasa when he proclaimed Lu- 
theranism and proscribed Roman Catholicism; and it was 
even then full of the meme'ntoes of the stern old pro- 
pounder of the state faith, as well as those of his turbu- 
lent sons, and of many eminent Swedes, including that 
famous Sture family who had once been holders of the es- 
tate. In the captive’s tower our visitors saw where Eric 
XIV had been imprisoned, and the oft-told tale of that 
poet-king’s romantic love affair with the peasant girl, 
Karin Mansdotter was recounted in all the fullness of its 
touching details. They were shown the hollows in the 
floor and window sill which were worn by the feet and el- 
bows of the unhappy king as he wistfully gazed at a spot 
in a neighboring field whither came his faithful friend to 
wave her handkerchief and signal her comforting assur- 

9 


130 < Ebb a Borjeson. 

ances; and they were permitted to see and touch the little 
stick with which, in lieu of a better instrument, the gifted 
and lonely captive indited his touching tribute to his true- 
hearted mate. 

After satisfying themselves with the interior sights, the 
party took a hasty view of the grounds, including the 
neighboring ruins of the popish edifices, and then re-em- 
barked. Gliding slowly out of the wooded fjord of Grips- 
holm they rounded its easterly head-land and bore away 
homeward. Their talk, of course, related to this last of 
the many historical places they had seen, and especially 
to that romantic love adventure between king and peasant 
which will ever lend a touch of pathetic interest to the 
grim antiquity of Gripsholm; for it is a theme inevitably 
discussed with every mention of the storied old castle. 

“ For my part,” said the elder Backstrom, ” ne’er could 
I imagine what King Eric could see to charm him so in 
that peasant Mandotter. She, of course, was dazzled, poor 
thing, with royalty and was glad enough of the royal 
favor on any footing. But these marriages betwixt high 
and low are e’er deplorable. What can these common 
people know of the finer sentiments of our higher 
ranks ?’ ’ 

” Know, oft times,” said the Countess, “e’en the finest 
feelings of the highest ranks. ’Tis a matter of the heart 
which knoweth no rank.” 

“Unrequited love,” said Ears, “is an endless theme 
for song and story, and oft it is treated, methinks, with 
more sound than sense ; but here verily was full requital 
between highest royalty and lowliest station.” 

“Full requital, mayhap,” said the Countess B., “but 
surely not requited was the love of Karin Mansdotter ; 
for naught more royal could king return than the love 
which that peasant gave.” 

“Bravo, bravo!” was heard from several voices. 
“Verily hath true love no braver champion than our 
Countess. What say the others ?” 

At this the younger Backstrom, with the slightest edg- 
ing toward the young scion, cast down her eyes with a 
fluttered silliness of expression intimating the need of 
manly support, which was ignored by her gallant, to 
whom the question, the company and his own existence 
seemed alike a bore. The elder Backstrom volunteered a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


131 

significant smile of a confessional nature toward Halvor; 
but the experiment was lost upon that young man, who 
was occupied in furtively watching Ebba’s countenance. 

“ Our poor Eric XIV was a gifted creature,” said the 
Countess, “something of painter, poet and lover, but 
withal only a half-mad, half-criminal monarch and scarce 
a half-made man; but his love for that peasant girl will be 
remembered when all else is forgotten; and this is well, 
for naught in Swedish history is a more priceless legacy to 
Swedish memories than this requited love which o’er mas- 
tered all hindering distinctions of society.” 

“A beautiful and blessed thing is fully requited love,” 
said Ebba, with calm decision, “ but the truest love is 
e’er its own requital. Of this more than of aught else is 
it more blessed to give than to receive.” 

“ Heard you that?” enquired the elder Backstrom, turn- 
ing to Halvor. “ I do declare now I — of all the — the — ” 

“ Exalted nonsense !” suggested Nils K., in an under- 
tone. “Begging pardon,” he continued, “sentiment run 
a little mad, that’s all; for, verily, would I as soon think 
savage hunger its own requital; and the way my stomach 
is craving for other than itself to feed on this blessed mo- 
ment endangereth the loved object nearest in reach.” 

“ What, Nils,” said Mons A., “ so soon mad again with 
thy fleshly yearnings: with such a voyage of soulful feast- 
ing hast still no soul for romance ? What then saith the 
fair Iduna ?” But that lady merely looked her contentment. 

“ ’Tis enough,” resumed Mons, “ the question is settled: 
we be all for love, requited or unrequited; we can’t help 
ourselves. Better heed the biddings of the heart than seek 
to probe its secrets: and so how better honor the true love 
’twixt Eric and his gentle Karin, than to sing the verses 
of the poet-king ?’ ’ And this merry mocker and pretended 
assailant of the tender passion, led off in swelling strains of 
the celebrated tribute of Eric XIV to his Karin, beginning 

“ Blest is he whose path embraces 
No dizzy cliffs but valleys low, 

Oft slips his foot who on high places 
Is doomed to travel to and fro; 

Let each man follow his own will, 

I love my simple maiden still.” 

The favoring breeze had swept them into the homeward 
fjord, and now as the glad chorus was borne over its bosom 


132 Ebb a Borjeson. 

it seemed with added joy that the narrowing shores echoed 
the refrain: — 

“ Let each man follow his own will 
I love my simple maiden still.” 

But this was not the echo that Halvor heard. To his 
ears came only the words: “Truest love is e’er its own re- 
quital.” The song ceased, but the sentence still rang in 
his ears. He tried to think of something else, made some 
passionate remarks touching the weather and the cattle 
disease ; still he found himself repeating, “true love is its 
own requital.” Then he thought of the handsome stranger 
and wondered whether it were possible that his love was 
requited by itself only ahd not by the rich return of Ebba’s 
whole heart. But, not now or here, did Halvor .solve the 
mystery. Now and here, indeed, did the presence of the 
lovely Iduna seem to hint of ease and peace, while that of 
the other promised work and struggle ; but long years af- 
terward in his dreams, in murmuring brooks, in songs of 
birds, in sighing winds, in scents of flowers, there came 
to him the ^ame whisperings that love was its own reward 
— that it was more blessed to give than to receive. 

A heart}^ reception awaited the returning excursionists. 
From the summit of Rock Lookout Varg espied them in 
the distance. The absence of both Ebba and Olaf had im- 
posed double responsibility upon the dog, and he wel- 
comed them with double demonstrations of joy; and as 
people are judged by the company they keep, he credited 
the whole party with a fresh accession of respectability on 
account of its two representatives of the family dignity. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

During the excursion, Ebba had not escaped misgivings 
respecting the welfare of her grandparent, and it was with 
an anxious heart that she now hastened to her presence. 
Following a mutual exclamation of “all is well,” the two 
women, with upturned looks of gratitude, were locked in 
a silent embrace. When the last of the guests had gone, 
Ebba detailed to the old lady a full account of their visit 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


133 


and specially delighted her by dwelling long upon the 
generous hospitality of Olof Rudbeck and the more than 
learned zeal and efficiency with which he had acquitted 
himself as guide, friend and instructor of the party. 

“Yes, thou sayest aright, my Hbba; much this doth 
please me; yet kind and zealous as he behaved toward you 
’twas no more than I expected from so loyal a Swede and 
so earnest and true a friend.” 

Then Hbba questioned her grandmather more closely 
touching all the small happenings during her absence and 
especially as to all and every indications respecting her 
health. 

“ All is well with thy grandma e’en as I did before as- 
sure thee; and as to occurrences, naught has transpired in 
thy absence.” 

“ Have there been no visitors, then, or callers upon 
business or farm matters?” 

“None, my child. No persons have been seen here 
save perchance some few strolling across the farm.” 

“ Sawest thou these?” enquired Hbba eagerly, “and 
when ?’* 

“ Nay, my child, I saw them not: and what doth it 
signify concerning such ? If thou must know, enquire of 
Helga or Kama, methinks they did speak of seeing 
idlers about.” 

Ebba went at once to question the house servants and 
both confirmed the rather vague report of the old lady, 
with some startling particulars whic seemed to identify 
the strangers, according to the domestics, “ as them same 
wagabonds as before lurked about here boding no good to 
nobod3^” The information troubled Ebba. She had sadly 
felt the increasing burden of her brother’s troubles and 
the difficulties of the situation were arrayed in renewed 
perplexities before her mind. The appointment must be 
kept with her brother in Stockholm, and yet upon what 
plea of propriety or pretense could she leave her grand- 
mother so soon again. Long the tioublesome situation 
kept Ebba awake that night, but the trying fatigue of the 
late voyage brought to her healthy nature at length such 
ample measure of oblivious sleep that half the long fore- 
noon next day was spent before she opened her eyes. 

The Generalskan had long occupied the ample old living 
room when her granddaughter made her tardy appear- 


134 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


ance. As the sun swept round, the increasing heat 
induced the ladies to move out to the porch to 
catch the soft breeze from the fjord. They had been 
in busy conversation there and now sat silently watching 
the strong lights and shades as they lay in sharpening out- 
line below them. Ebba was deeply considering the plan 
of action which she felt was every moment becoming 
more urgent upon her. She had promised to meet her 
brother in Stockholm within a week, of which but three 
days remained. She was loath to speak of going away to 
her grandmother, or to think of going without speaking of 
it, and she grieved to think she could report nothing 
favorable to her brother when she should meet him. 

Ebba was thus pondering when she was startled with 
the words of the Generalskan who with an averted face 
and low, faltering voice suddenly said: 

“Thou did’st speak of Arvid the other day. Speak 
now again of him. What knowest thou concerning him ? 
Yet spare — oh, my child, thou wilt not, thou can’t not say 
our Arvid is dead ?’’ 

“Nay, grandma dear,’’ exclaimed Ebba, joyfully 
springing to clasp the old lady in her arms, “Arvid is 
alive and well, that I do know, or was so on Midsummer 
day.” 

The Generalskan cast her pale face upward and for a 
moment her whole person trembled with the solemn fervor 
of her silent thanksgiving. 

“ ’Tis enough for the present,’’ said the old lady, as 
Ebba was about to continue the talk of her brother, “ we 
will have further speech of the matter ere long.’’ 

For some minutes the old lady sat silently buried in 
thought. With an intent and fixed gaze the lines of her 
face seemed alternately rigid and relaxed, but at length 
her countenance brightened, and turning with a soft open 
smile she said: 

“ I would love to see Arvid soon.’’ 

“ And soon shalt thou, my own grandma.’’ And there- 
upon Ebba told how she had met her brother, and detailed 
all her subsequent experiences with him only withholding 
for the present any mention of the indications which 
seemed to threaten Arvid ’s safety. During the recital the 
old lady listened in absorbed silence, oMy pressing Ebba’s 
hand at intervals with a half-suppressed murmur of ‘ ‘ dear 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


135 


brave boy” as the incidents of Arvid’s adventures in 
America were gone over. When Ebba had finished her 
narrative her grandma repeated more earnestly her desire 
to see the exiled boy. The sister’s heart leaped to her 
throat. All seemed now happily settled, and it was ar- 
ranged that Ebba should go to Stockholm on the morrow 
and return with Arvid for a joyous re-union in the dear old 
home. Yet with this hastening realization of cherished 
hopes a strange feeling of doubt and dread beset Ebba’s 
heart. It seemed too good for sober reality, and she was 
inclined to be angry with herself as she retired that night 
with something of a vaguely troubled heart instead of 
giving herself up to boundless and grateful joy. 

In the morning this oppressive besetment was greatly 
dispelled as Ebba embarked early on one of the sweetest 
of the bright long days of the Swedish midsummer. 
Impatient to start upon her joyous errand, she had made 
all preparations to leave at this early hour, and to that end 
had kissed her grandmother farewell at half past nine and 
gone to bed while the evening sun was yet lingering over 
the horizon. 

As already stated, Ebba was an expert in the manage- 
ment of sail and oar. Indeed, her skill, agility and fear- 
lessness in boating mysteries of all kinds as well as her 
enthusiastic love of the art, impelled her to seek occasion 
for its indulgence, and many were the voyages she made 
to Stockholm and various lake ports upon errands of 
pleasure and business, the latter sometimes including 
shopping or other commissions kindly undertaken for her 
neighbors. The young lady felt an unusual exhileration 
this bright morning. The dry yet deliciously soft air 
seemed to lick her cheeks with that tender freshness 
known to perfection only in the twilight hours of mid- 
summer in the inland regions of the far north. Never 
had she more eagerly desired a brisk wind and speedy 
voyage; but the breeze was so gentle that only the faintest 
rustling of the leaves mingled with the crowing of the 
cocks and the songs of the morning birds. 

With only a light breeze, and that blowing at first from 
a perverse quarter, Ebba made but slow northward prog- 
ress out of the fjord; but when, at length, she rounded in- 
to the lake, her little skiff sped gallantly away before a 
freer and more favoring wind. It happened to be one 


136 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


of the special market mornings in Stockholm and the 
whole lake was alive with trafficking craft hurr3nng to 
a common destination. Sail after sail bellied to the wind; 
sailless boats moved to the measured oar strokes of strong- 
limbed and brightly dressed girls; barges of hay with 
hulls hidden from view by their projecting burdens, floated 
ponderously; broad scows laden to the guards with wood, 
and lighter craft guided by farmers’ wives with brown 
hands and ruddy faces and bearing garden truck and 
dairy products crossed each other’s wake and swelled the 
moving throng. Sweeping past these and skirting isles with 
dew}^ foliage from which peeped dusky red houses, Ebba at 
length rounded a wooded point, when the spires and high- 
est buildings of Stockholm burst upon her view. 

It was a beautiful and familiar picture upon which she 
loved to linger; and brighter it looked to her this morning 
in the gladness of her heart; yet fair as the city la}^ in the 
distance Ebba now felt jealous of the space that retarded 
the union with her brother. With the lessening of this 
space her eagerness increased ; and as she passed Lang- 
holm and only the short arm of the open lake shone be- 
tween her and the spire of the Riddarholm, her impatience 
seemed to know no bounds. 

Making a speedy mooring Ebba threaded her way 
through the narrow and quaint streets of the Staden. The 
hour was yet early, and the city was just awakening to the 
activities of the day. In the market-place blonde peas- 
ants in varied attire, with chaffering fish women and rudd}*- 
faced hucksters in white aprons, adjusted their wares and 
clamored for customers. Ebba would ordinaril}' have 
paused to observe the motley spectacle but her one intent 
purpose now hastened her steps. Passing from one fa- 
miliar street to another she at length turned into a se- 
cluded quarter and approached the appointed place of 
meeting. She paused and looked cautiously about. Her 
heart thumped audibly as she gave the needed signal. It 
was promptly answered, and with a low cry of joy the 
couple were once more in confiding intercourse. 

“ Oh, my Arvid, all is well ! Glad tidings bear I from 
our grandma, who bids me fetch thee to the dear old 
home. ’ ’ 

“ Thank God ! at last, then; and it comes none too soon. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 137 

for ’tis unbearable to skulk longer from honest daylight 
thus.” 

Brushing a shade of pain from her face Ebba ex- 
claimed: 

” We’ll make the greater haste; let’s away, brother,” 
and started eagerly to return. In her speeding gladness 
she kept the lead of her brother as they crept along the 
hidden shore of the Baltic. They had gone but a short 
distance when Arvid, happening to trip over a ston}^ sub- 
stance, stooped to examine a seeming mineral specimen, 
and thus increased the distance between them. Suddenly 
Ebba heard the sharp crack of firearms behind her, with 
a loud outcry and the sound of heavy blows. 
She turned with a start. Four men had sprung from a 
rocky copse and were assaulting Arvid from different 
sides. With a piercing shriek she ran back. One of the 
assailants had received a disabling kick in the stomach 
and lay writhing in pain, another was hastily re-loading a 
discharged pistol which had missed its aim, while from 
the other two the brother was vigorously defending him- 
self with a club he had opportunely seized. Hardly know- 
ing what she did, Ebba grappled with one of the men 
with all her strength. The man struggled to free himself 
but she frantically tightened her grasp. Uttering a fierce 
oath, he clutched her savagely by the throat. With an 
instant’s loss of consciousness she relaxed her grip, butbe- 
fore the ruffian could fling her from him she revived and 
clung to him with renewed desperation. At the same 
instant she saw that her brother, who had successfully 
defended himself, was about to rush to her rescue. ” Fly, 
Arvid, fly !” she screamed aloud, ” fear naught for me; 
’tis thy blood they seek. Quick, save thyself; away, brother, 
away !” Hesitating an instant Arvid was caught in a des- 
perate struggle with his remaining assailant. Meanwhile 
Ebba’s antagonist, enraged at being thwarted by a girl, 
struck her a stunning blow, and casting her aside, rushed to 
the aid of his comrades. But he was too late; for Arvid 
had already overcome his single assailant and before the 
others could renew the attack he turned and fled. As he 
ran the re-loaded pistol was again fired at him without ef- 
fect; and hastening along the shore he fortunately found 
a small boat in which he pushed out into the channel. 
With a single oar and an assisting breeze he made slowly 


138 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


for the opposite shore; and when Ebba recovered herself 
it was just in time to see her brother disappear behind 
Castle Isle and to hear the imprecations of the retreating 
ruffians at the escape of their intended victim. 

Stunned and weakened though she was by the sudden 
struggle, Ebba had distinctly recognized two of the assail- 
ants as the same suspicious looking men who made their 
stealthy appearance at the Midsummer festival and after- 
wards lurked about the outbuildings at her home. There 
could then be no further doubt that the vengeful purpose 
of the desperadoes in their sleepless plottings and final as- 
sault had originated in the old neighborhood, feud that 
caused her brother’s exile. Of that much she was certain 
and she felt that the occurence justified as well the re- 
peated apprehensions expressed by Arvid as the vague 
forebodings with which she had lately been haunted. 
There was no other way to account for the persistent en- 
mity against a brother, who with all his waywardness had 
endeared himself to his acquaintances by his manly and 
chivalrous character. 

But what was now to be done? Her brother, she be- 
lieved, was reasonably safe for the present. But what 
was to become of him ; where would he go? With the 
spiteful persistence of his pursurers he could not safely 
remain in the neighborhood, if anywhere in Sweden ; and 
even if the murderous designs of his enemies should 
continue to be balked, life would be intolerable if cursed 
with the ceaseless apprehension of wicked designs upon it. 
Nor could Arvid obtain security or certain relief by mak- 
ing confession and demanding trial, since his enemies were 
more intent upon revenge than justice, while his own 
friendly witnesses were scattered and of doubtful availi- 
bility. Under these circumstances, Ebba believed her 
brother would quickly leave his native land and 
perhaps return to the New World. For the present, at 
least, she knew their connection was severed ; and even if 
further intercourse might be possible, she could not ven- 
ture first upon its renewal, but must await intelligence 
from her hunted brother. 

Meanwhile, how could she return to her grandparent 
without the long-banished Arvid ? She knew the Gen- 
eralskan well enough to believe that having once relaxed 
her severity she would long for her exiled boy with an in- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


139 


tensity proportioned to the sternness with which she had 
banished him. She hardly dared to think of the disappoint- 
ment of the old lady, and dreaded the effect of the sudden 
revulsion of feeling upon her failing strength. Lonely, 
weak and depressed Ebba retraced her steps to the city. 
The future looked dark and troubled even to her hopeful 
nature. Sorely she felt the need of a trusty friend in 
whom to confide. She thought of the Countess B. 
and quickened her steps. The time had come, she felt, 
for disclosing the whole matter to that true friend, from 
whom with rare precaution, she had withheld the secret 
of her brother’s return. She remembered having, when a 
child, heard rumors of an early attachment between Ar- 
vid and the Countess. How true they were she did not 
know, but she felt vSure of the steadfast friendship of that 
excellent lady in all emergencies. 

And her confidence was amply justified. Ebba found 
in the Countess B. an absorbed and sympathetic listener. 
She would not hear of her visitor’s proposed return home 
that day, but insisted upon her remaining till the morrow. 
Long the two ladies continued in earnest consultation, 
which terminated with the Countess’ cheery assurance 
that she expected the happiest results from the honor, 
chivalrous force and daring resources of the fugitive 
brother, backed by such a sister; and when that encour- 
aged young lady was at length shown to her room, it was 
to enjoy a long and sound slumber after the excitement 
and exhaustion of the day. 


chapter XIX. 

It would be difficult to analyze the emotions with which 
the Generalskan awaited the return of her grandchildren. 
As Ebba had anticipated, the inflexibility which had com- 
pelled the long banishment of her brother had re-acted to 
a corresponding tenderness of yearning for him. The old 
lady dared not confess to herself how impatient she was 
growing for the return of Arvid. The fourteen years of 
his exile, with all their fearful vicissitudes, seemed to h. r 
briefer, more tolerable than the few lagging hours, which. 


140 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


with strange uncertainty, now delayed the re-union with 
her boy. She had been sorely disappointed at the non- 
arrival of the brother and sister the evening of the same 
day upon which Ebba had departed so early. She had de- 
layed going to bed beyond her usual hour with the hope 
of first receiving the wanderer under the ancestral roof. 
She found herself listening at wakeful hours during the 
night for the unusual sounds betokening the arrival of the 
expected couple. The same anticipation had impelled 
her to rise at an earlier hour in the morning, and now she 
sat with the sickening palpitation with which one awaits 
the instantly expected realization of long cherished hope. 

The old lady had long paced the room at intervals 
with growing impatience; she had repeatedly lingered at 
the windows and gone out upon the porch to gaze at the 
fjord for a sight of the returning skiff, and she had 
returned and finally seated herself with nervous weariness 
in her great chair. At length a low bark from the watch- 
ful Varg drew her attention to the casement. Again 
the dog barked: her heart beat faster: she rose, but with 
a sudden dizz}" weakness, she pould scarcel)" reach the 
window. With a trembling gaze her eyes ranged over 
the fjord. She saw a small skiff gliding between interven- 
ing tree-tops. Now the little sail disappeared behind 
thicker foliage; now it reappeared, and pointed more 
directly toward her. The old lady strained her eyes 
anew. Was it the fault of her failing sight? She wiped 
and replaced her glasses. The boat came nearer; she 
started, uttering a low moan. She saw that the skiff con- 
tained but one person! “Oh, my foreboding heart!” 
she exclaimed and staggered back to her chair. 

In half listless despair the Generalskan gave ear to the 
gathering sounds as she sat in sore suspense: and scarcel}" 
faster or more audibly did Yarg voice his tempestuous 
welcome to his young mistress than did the old lady 
experience ominous heart-throbbings at her coming. 
Silently she listened to the approaching footsteps; the 
door cautiously opened and Ebba softly entered. The 
grandmother sat with a riveted downward gaze and for 
an instant neither spoke. 

“ A single word, my child,” said the old lady in a sub- 
dued voice, without looking up, “speak; thou comest 
back alone ?” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


4 


Ebba seeking to avoid a direct answer sprang toward 
her grandparent with an affected cheeriness of manner. 

“Nay, child,” she continued looking up, “my heart 
and thy face tell it me despite thy words of hope. ’Tis 
enough— ’tis the judgment of God : I so accept it, and 
’tis not for me to whimper at the just decree.” 

With an expression of indescribable dejection the 
aged speaker lapsed into riveted silence. Her gaze 
became fixed, her pale features grew rigid, and at every 
attempt of her granddaughter to begin the explanation of 
her returning alone the old lady shook her head with 
uplifted hand, saying, 

“Nay, not now; in lowly silence accept we God’s 
will.” 

The young lady quietly passed one arm around her 
grandmother and with her other hand fondly smoothed her 
brow; and long thus the two silently gave themselves up 
to their emotions. It was only after an interval of some 
days that the Generalskan would listen to a detailed ac- 
count of the affair, and when, at length, Ebba recited the 
circumstances of her joyful meeting with Arvid and of the 
sudden attack upon, and fortunate escape of her brother, 
she yielded a half wandering attention to the story with- 
out changing her expression or uttering a word. Ebba 
well knew her grandmother’s varying moods and 
she could not but feel some alarm at a quietness so 
alien to her ordinary nature. So she sought to 
arouse her by exhibiting the most favorable aspect 
of the occurrence and trying to inspire the old 
lady with some of her own hopefulness. But when 
she ended by expressing the Countess B.’s endorse- 
ment of her own strong faith that her brother would re- 
port his own triumphant safety in due time, the Generals- 
kan replied with a faint, sad smile, “if it be God’s will 
after due penance; but well assured am I that in this 
further severance is made manifest the Divine rebuke of 
your grandmother’s self-righteous usurpation of that 
power which belongeth to Him who declared that ven- 
geance was His alone.” 

After this the summer wore quietly away. Nothing 
was seen or heard of Arvid and little occurred to vary the 
stately repose of the ancient homestead. Nor did Ebba 
see more of Halvor Mondahl than of others of their mid- 


142 


Ebb a Borjcson. 

summer visitors. Some of these, including Halvor, be- 
sides making their formal after-calls, joined in a moon- 
light sail from Stockholm a^nd spent a chatty hour at the 
old mansion before their return. This event, with not in- 
frequent other calls from the city and a week’s visit from 
the Countess B., were all that thus far filled the quiet 
measure of other than domestic experiences; and quieter 
yet were the happenings pertaining to such exclusive 
home affairs. 

And now early hay-harvest was at hand. The silent 
woods had grown dark with a burdened density of foliage. 
From lush pastures satiated cows with daily growing sleek- 
ness wended their lazy way to evening milkers, and in the 
meadows the matted and staggering grass was ready for 
the mowers. Olaf summoned a force of helpers from 
neighboring men and maidens. Over the hills came the 
merry ring of the scythe-sharpenings. In measured uni- 
son the strong-armed mowers laid the fields in fragrant 
swaths. In sportive pursuit the strenuous maidens hast- 
ened to. transfer the grass to broad leaning ladders to facil- 
itate its curing. In due time, over devious and half-blind 
roadways homeward crept the bulky hay loads, from 
which projecting tree-limbs exacted pendant tributes as 
they passed. And as the daily lengthening ricks lined the 
outbuildings, how deliciously the new hay scented the 
whole home atmosphere ! And how merrily the hay- 
makers gathered upon the lawn after the day's work was 
done and told over their simple stories or listened to 
weightier words from the Generalskan or the young mis- 
tress. 

As before stated, Druid Jarl, the ancestral oak, grew be- 
tween two ponderous rocks on the sloping lawn. Appar- 
ently the tree had first taken root in a narrow crevice of a 
single rocky mass, and there widened room to grow by 
forcing asunder the envious pre-occupants of the spot. It 
had been a grim struggle for supremacy, a veritable con- 
flict of giants, with the not unusual result of a joint occu- 
pancy of the disputed ground. Crowding around the in- 
truding trunk of the tree, the rocks spread themselves in a 
sort of low circular platform over which and far beyond 
the long limbs of the old oak spread their ample shade. 
Here, as a fitting place to gather, the annual harvesters 
were glad to hear about the old mythology — to listen to 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


143 


loved voices in Saga legend and storied Edda, and in the 
instructive talk of all that concerned the dear Northland. 
But here, alas, the Generalskan could not this season come 
to them; for in growing feebleness she could not safely 
expose herself to the damp evening air. 

But Hbba newly exerted herself in trying to make 
amends for grandmother’s absence. On the warm evenings 
she caused Helga to set the supper-table out in the shade 
of Druid Jarl, ready for the returning hay-makers; and 
never was kingly banquet relished as was that simply gen- 
erous meal by those ruddy-faced and fair-haired workers. 
For their unpampered appetites waited upon honest labor 
and were wetted with the unpoisoned sauce of rustic con- 
tent. As they ate, the new hay loads stood untouched be- 
side the half-built ricks, and near by the unmilked cows 
waited with dripping teats for their evening relief. After 
supper, while Olaf and Kama milked the suffering herd, 
the sated harvesters unloaded the hay-wagons upon the 
growing rick; and lo ! fresh incense from the scented 
meadows filled anew all their gladdened hearts. Then 
the sun, setting the heavens aflame, went down from the 
reddened hill tops burnishing the fjord like a golden mir- 
ror! and then with the deepening afterglow came another 
long twilight of a fair Swedish summer. 

So evening after evening Ebba appeared among the 
hay-makers, who sprawled themselves upon the rocks and 
grass under old Druid Jarl; and there, too, squatted the 
watchful Varg with his nose between his paws, calmly 
dividing his attention between his young mistress and her 
listeners. Whatever the effect upon the canine percep- 
tions it is risking little to guess that both the night’s sleep 
and the morrow’s toil of the hay-makers were the better 
for the twilight talks they heard and expected in the in- 
tervals of their long labors. 


144 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER XX. 

July was gone, and it was approaching the middle of 
August. The early ha^uiig was nearly over and already 
the drooping heads and deepening color of rye and 
barley betokened a hastening grain harvest. It was 
awaited with some anxiety at the old mansion. The gen- 
erous hospitality of the Generalskan, supplementing 
other attractions of the ancestral place, had continued to 
draw visitors, and household expenses were becoming 
burdensome. The costs of the grand dinner party and of 
the Midsummer festival had drawn seriously upon the de- 
clining resources of the family. They hastened that 
need of economy which had long been growing. One by 
one long indulged luxuries had been given up and addi- 
tional duties assumed by domestic and farm helpers in 
order to curtail expenses. This had gone so far that 
what had been deemed necessaries theatened to be 
trenched upon. The emergency was becoming so ex- 
treme that the old madam was about to summon Olaf and 
Ebba to a family consultation with reference to future 
ways and means. The old lady was not the only mem- 
ber of the family who had long foreseen its lessening re- 
sources. But she was not a good economist, and she was 
unable or unwilling to apply the needed remedy. With 
an imperious will and a proud high spirit she had, after 
all, little false pride in aught else than the maintenance of 
the traditional family hospitality. For that she had given 
up personal comforts and even sacrificed much of the 
grand outward style bequeathed from her court and army 
life. But she had little knack in adapting herself to her 
altered circumstances, and with all her efforts there 
seemed to be a growing encroachment upon the lessening 
resources of the family. Poverty, however, could only 
chafe not break the spirit of the proud, poor lady; and 
she especially .scorned to consider any * economy that 
promised to restrict the ample hospitality of her enter- 
tainments. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


145 


“ Nay, nay,” she would exclaim, when considering the 
urgency of a change, “let economy not there begin. A 
Northman’s and a soldier’s hearth is noplace to higgle or 
scrimp, though it be a widowed home; and whatever be- 
tide latch-string shall here be out to all comers.” 

Nor would the Generalskan listen to any suggestion of a 
simpler or less costly manner of entertainment. 

“Not at all!” was her indignant protest, “some way 
will be found to pit)vide the means. Of that I doubt not, 
but at all events,” she continued with a proudly mournful 
lift of her silvery head. “I take the responsibility, and 
as long as there’s a roof over this house the old welcome 
to bed and cheer shall be maintained while I live, to the 
full — to the fulir ’ 

That settled the matter so far as au}^ retrenchment was 
to be expected in that quarter, and other means were anx- 
iously sought for with the hope of reducing the family ex- 
penses. 

One afternoon Ebba and her grandmother sat consider- 
ing this grave matter when a yacht attracted their atten- 
tion as they gazed over the fjord. With a light, fitful 
wind its speed was slow and its course uncertain. But 
presently the ladies saw that the little craft was making 
toward their landing, and in due time it rounded into the 
cove and touched the shore. Soon a gentleman was seen 
ascending the hill, and Bengt Ericson was announced. 

‘ ‘ In spite of his long practiced ease of manner the visi- 
tor was obviously embarrassed at meeting the two ladies 
together. Ebba, although the ulterior object of his visit, 
was apparently the last person at that moment whom he 
desired to see; while that young lady, preferring to meet 
any one else, persisted in remaining in his presence. The 
visit was impelled b}^ mixed motives scarcely defined or 
confessed by the visitor. He had doubted his own policy 
as a suitor for Ebba’s hand in leaving the field to his rival 
upon the Midsummer excursion. Stories of its incidents 
had reached him with their usual gossippy exaggeration. 
He had heard of Halvor’s gallantry in aiding the ladies to 
land at the island, which Nils K. and friends in sportive 
mischief had told him included the rescue of Ebba and the 
Backstroms from drowning, to which were added sly hints 
of Ebba’s grateful favor and subsequent secret meetings 
of the loving couple. 

10 


146 


Ebba Borjeson. 


Here was ample matter for both jealousy and curiosity, 
to say nothing of other causes for a visit. • But of all oc- 
casions this was one upon which Bengt specially desired 
to see the Generalskan alone. He believed her to be his 
friend and advocate, while he had reason to doubt the 
favor of the young lady, toward whom he cherished feel- 
ings oddly commingled of longing and dread. Thus, 
while neither of the three was deficient in social tact all 
felt in some degree, hampered by the situation. The 
weather and similar introductory topics had yielded but 
monosyllabic fruit; the conversation perversely halted; its 
feast and flow seemed to cease as soon as begun. 

“What tidings bring ye from Stockholm?” enquired 
the old lady, in a desperate effort to force the conversa- 
tion. 

Naught to speak of ; ze gapital yawns in ze elegant 
dullness, ze summer sleepiness when nozing happens.” 

“ Ah yes, between seasons, perchance,” replied the 
old lady, “ too late for full summer plans and too soon for 
winter preparations; exactly, ’tis natural enough. But 
something doubtless is planned in city circles, and if it be 
too early to speak of court balls for the winter how looks 
it now for the great boar-hunt in the autumn ?’ ’ 

“Boar-hunt!” exclaimed Bengt Ericson, and he 
shrugged his shoulders with a deprecating look as if 
the subject were to him a bore of another character and 
himself the chOvSen object of it. 

“What success,” queried the hostess, persisting in her 
effort at entertainment, “is our good king like to meet 
with in his efforts to settle the troubles between nobles 
and peasants?” 

“ Troubles ? ^e only way to zettell zem is to zettell ze 
peasants zot make ze troubles. Do zot once for all, or ze 
more we give ze more zay will ask for evare more.” 

. Neither lady made reply, but while a quick flush of 
indignant protest tinged Ebba’s face the old lady’s features 
wore a mild expression of despair as she essayed another 
diversion. 

‘ ‘ Know ye who are like to be candidates for next 
confirmation ? A goodly number will appear ’tis reported: 
and sure ’twill be blessed reward for the new zeal follow- 
ing the Bishop’s labors, e’en as harvest followeth seed- 
time.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


147 


“Pardonne ! exclaimed the visitor, who seemed as 
little interested in religion as in the other topics attempted, 
“ I confess me zehn I came more to hear than to give ze 
news. Ah, ze grraat news I hear all through the cit5^ 
all about ze grand excursion to Upsala, ze courteous 
reception, ze vast pleasure enjoyed, ze homeward sail, ze 
haccident and ze heroic conduct of ze young ministaire 
Mondahl.” 

Ebba started with a look of amused enquiry. Half 
suspecting that the visitor had been duped by arrant 
gossip, she placed her finger on her lip in pretended 
deprecation of further disclosures. 

“ Much of zis grrat news have I heard, but ’tis zo verra 
good I beg ze ladees to kindly tell me more.” 

“Since that is the special matter of your query,” 
replied the old lady, with a touch of dignified reserve, 

‘ ‘ I beg to refer you for information to my granddaughter 
here, who alone is possessed of it:” and before Ebba. 
could exert herself to arrest the movement her grand- 
mother politely excusing herself, quietly left the room. 
In spite of her effort to seem unconcerned Ebba felt her 
cheeks tingle with surprise, and a moment of awkward 
silence ensued. 

“ Oh, yes,” she presently burst forth in desperation, “ a 
merry and delightful time had we upon our Midsummer 
excursion, and most profitable withal.” 

“ Ah, it could be not ozerwise in ze company of ze 
Mam’selle. E’en ze mishaps, ze terreeble alarms, ze 
hair-breadths scapes were enjoyed by and with her, yes? 
Ah, happy ze man who vas privileged to save such a 
life!” 

“Life? If ’tis mine you mean ’tis a mistake; and 
whether it be much or little to save it no person has been 
specially privileged to do that forme, since it has not been 
endangered.” 

“ How? Did not ze young Ministaire Mondahl zen save 
ze Mam’zelle from drowning?” 

‘ ‘ Not to my knowledge. ’ ’ 

“No! Is it posseebeel — not saved by Halvor Mon- 
dahl?” 

“ Is it, then, so surprising that there should have been 
no rescue when there was no peril ?” 

“ But ’tis all ze town talk in Stockholm zhat ze brave 


T48 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Halvor did snatch ze Mam’zelle and two ozare ladees from 
ze waves; and ze whole city be e’en vocal with praise of 
ze gallant act.” 

” And gallant are e’er such acts,” replied Ebba with a 
merry toss of her head, “but double-tongued rumor hath 
e’en outdone herself in this matter.” 

“So, indeed !” exclaimed the absorbed visitor, drawing 
nearer his chair. “Ah, then, ze Mam’zelle will be zo 
kind as to tell me all ze particulars. How could ze young 
ministaire so win ze Mam’zelle’s gratitude ? What then did 
ze gallant Herr Mondahl, eh ? ” 

But the young lady, playfully evading his questions, was 
not disposed to gratify her visitor’s curiosity. Balked in 
his purpose Bengt Ericson warily scanned Ebba’s face. 

“ At all events,” he resumed, “ ze Mam’zelle doth not 
owe her life to Halvor Mondahl, no? ” 

Ebba assented. 

“ ’Tis enough; I breathe ze more freely. Ah, happy ze 
man to whom ze Mam’zelle should owe her precious life; 
and I zhall pray for ze hopportunity to risk my own to 
vSave hers avare and alway.” 

“What ! ” asked the other laughing, “ would you have 
me endanger my life merely to permit you to save it ? ” 

“ As you will,” said Bengt, placing his hand upon his 
heart as he approached Ebba; “ only hear and command 
me; test your fond admirer by any means. Oh, ze dear 
Mam’zelle,” he continued, attempting to seize her hand, 
“ if a life of devotion, if an ancient name and ample for- 
tune — if — if — 

“ If you hav’nt seen our pigs,” interposed Ebba, “ they 
are worth seeing — a new litter, and the most comical and 
cnnning things alive; and, oh, two new lambs, also, whiter 
than the driven snow; come, let us go and see them.” 

Stunned by the easy audacity of the girl Bengt Ericson 
gazed at her a moment in blank amazement, and then 
muttering a wish that the devil had entered all the lambs 
as well as pigs in creation once for all, listlessly followed 
after. 

As Ebba emerged from the ‘house Varg bounded to 
her side, but he quickly checked himself with a low growl 
as he saw his mistress joined by a stranger. She wound 
her fingers in his long hair and spoke playfully to the 
dog; but her friendly mediation failing to allay suspicions. 


Ebba Borjeson. 


149 


he kept nOvSe and eye in vigilant question of the man. 
They descended the sloping lawn and as they approached 
the little lake the swans swam toward them, stretching 
their white necks to Ebba for tood and notice; then pass- 
ing on to the farm buildings they heard the plaintive bleat- 
ings of the lambs and observed the tender melancholy of 
their trustful eyes ; then as they turned away they en- 
countered the vigorous devotion of a pet calf which, in its 
blind determination to reach Ebba, ran between the 
dainty legs of her companion and nearly overturned him 
in the cow-yard mire. 

“Pray, forgive her,” said Ebba, “ ’tis Snowface’s 
child and ’twas but the energy of her love she evinces. 
Ha.st e’er seen Snowface, the beautiful mother? Stay and 
sup with us and thou shalt see her.’’ 

The visitor was not overwhelmed with the sense 
of the contemplated favor, but intimated that a very little 
of the cow-yard attentions he had already received suf- 
ficed to go a long way with him. 

“Yea, but e’en the sight of our Snowface is a ver}^ 
benediction, e’en as her udder yieldeth the milk of 
human kindness. A veritable Audhumla seemeth she, 
worthy to suckle a race of ancestral giants, though she be 
not large.’’ 

‘ ‘ Bah ! zeese brutes get ze best of it. What signify 
zeese vulgare zings to a mam’selle who could move 
among ze highest of human kind. ’Tis but casting pearls 
before zwine; ’tis sheer waste of loveliness. Ah, would 
ze Mam’selle but hear me’’ — the speaker, turning a lan- 
guishing gaze upon his companion, again attitudinized in 
the role of suitor; “if ze Mam’selle, if ze sweetest, ze 
loveliest of her sex, would hear one who loves and adores 
her, ah zhen she would make ze happiest man of her 
humble servant — zhen would she become ze gran’ ladee 
and ze graces vich she buries in zis rustic place would 
adorn ze highest society in ze land.’’ 

“ Better, perchance, be queen her^ than subject there 
— better the mute loyalty of these honest creatures than 
the glib flatteries of fashion’s votaries.’’ Ebba tossed 
her head with saucy glee as she uttered the words in a 
tone of half raillery ; but an angry scowl darkened the 
face of Bengt Ericson ; all aspects and pretence of the 
lover instantly disappeared from his manner and voice, and 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


150 

a look of stealthy malignity shot from under his brows as 
he turned and strode away. As they returned to the 
house Ebba sought other topics for conversation but her 
companion preserved a moody silence. They were about 
to re-enter when the visitor stopped. 

“ Ah, zhere is one piece of news,” he said, “ I forgot to 
give ze Mam’selle; ’twas too trifling to speak of — ze 
young Halvor Mondahl will not after all join the Swedish 
Embassy in London : he is too idle and incompetent for ze 
position; and zo ze young man, having no prospects nor 
expectations, is suing for ze hand of ze rrich ladee, Iduna, 
and ’tissaid ze banns of their marriage will soon be pub- 
lished.” 

The speaker bowed as he slowly finished his sentence, 
stealing a sideward glance to observe the effect upon his 
listener. Then bowing lower, he continued, “and zo with 
ze highest consideration I wish ze Mam’selle a very good 
evening.” With his most finished hauteur Bengt Ericson 
turned and disappeared down the slope. It was Ebba’s 
turn to experience vexation. She doubted the truth of the 
pretended news touching Halvor’ s relation to the London 
Embassy , and she had tried to look her calm scorn of such 
malicious gossip. Bnt there was nothing improbable in 
the report of Halvor’s engagement 'with the lady Iduna, 
which she ought to welcome with friendly gladness. Why 
did’nt she? She did not know and dared not ask herself ; 
but it was with the more self-scorn that she found herself 
unduly disquieted by what she had heard. 

The family consultation was held as proposed. Its 
grave proceedings need not here be detailed. Suffice it 
that one conclusion was speedily reached. However it 
rnight be as to the demands and resources of the future, 
urgent necessity required that immediate proceeds be had 
from w^hatever supplies could be possibly spared above 
family needs prior to replenishment from the coming har- 
vest. As that season was near at hand, the amount of 
available produce was to be ascertained and an esti- 
mate made of w^hat should be retained for the wants of the 
intervening period. To this end a tour of inspection and 
rural account of stock were to be made, of which Olaf was 
timely notified; and a proud day it w^as for that worthy 
person w^hen the Generalskan once more gave her personal 
attention to the outside matters in w^hich he felt so much 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


151 

pride. It was not without trepidation that his steward- 
ship had formerly undergone her periodical examination, 
while there was a corresponding stimulus in the kindly en- 
couragment she was wont to give his best labors. Olaf 
had missed these incentives in the growing infrequency of 
the old lady’s visits of late: and delighted he was now to 
exhibit the good order and wise care which marked his 
conduct of affairs; proud he was at the confirmation of the 
surplus quantities of rye and oats and barley- and hay 
which he had already set apart to be .sent to market; proud 
of the neatly-piled firewood and its provident overplus, 
and specially proud of the witnessing ax stuck in the wood- 
block with the array of implements leaned against the wall 
as always marking the good management of Scandinavian 
farms. 

Then busy were the labors of all in making ready for 
shipping the surplus products to the Stockholm market. 
While Olaf looked to the loading of the wood-scow and 
made ready the farm barge for its cargo of grain, Ebba 
supervised the preparation of eggs and dairy products to 
be taken in direct charge herself. When the several pro- 
ducts were loaded and all was in readiness, the day was 
fixed for the voyage to Stockholm. Ebba was to take 
Kama with her and embark in the yacht with the light 
articles, and she was both to look to the marketing of 
these and to negotiate the sale of the heavier products to 
be delivered in due time by Olaf. The start was to be 
made at early dawn of a mid-August day, and to this end 
the household retired just as the sun was sinking below 
the horizon. Ebba took leave of her grandmother before 
going to bed so that her rest need not be broken by a 
morning adieu. The feeling simplicity of the old lady’s 
farewell yet abated little from the gracious and somewhat 
formal manner usual with her. Never demonstrative, her 
unconfessed emotions had the earnest depth of a forceful 
current; but there was now in her mien a latent tone of 
gentle solemnity which aroused Ebba’s alarm. She had 
requested her grandchild to return from Stockholm in 
time to join in attending the Sunday services upon the re- 
opening of the ancient church of Osmo on the Baltic fjord 
southward, in which worship was to be resumed after 
manv years’ suspension. 

“Yes, my purpose holds,” she repeated, as she rose to 


152 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


go to her chamber, “ to be present at the first services to 
be again offered in the dear old edifice. ’Twill be an oc- 
casion for rejoicing to which I have long looked forward. 
Most devoutly do I desire, God willing, to kneel once 
again within its sacred walls, but should not my health 
per — ” 

“ Health ! dear grandma,” interposed Ebba, peering 
with keen scrutiny into the other’s face, “art thou ill ? 
My grandma shall tell me frankly; then I go not from 
her.” 

“ Nay, my child, thou shalt go. I am not ill: ’twas but 
a passing reflection. Not so strong feel I as of yore, but 
e’er trust I that needed things may be vouchsafed unto 
me. My Ebba shall go and return betimes to her grand- 
ma; and should aught prevent her attendance thou shalt 
appear at- Osmo e’en as the family delegate for the cher- 
ished event.” 

Had there not long been a growing languor in the de- 
meanor of her grandparent Ebba would have felt more 
alarm at the listless words of one noted for the stately en- 
ergy of her speech. As it was, she sat by her bedside 
until the old lady fell into a wholesome sleep. Then she 
stole out upon the porch; the fjord lay in the splendor of a 
reddening afterglow, and the evening was deepening into 
exquisite peace. As she watched the slowly fading 
light Ebba mused over the disturbing experiences she had 
recently encountered. She had early discovered that life 
was something else than a dream; she more and more re- 
alized that it was checkered with chances and beset by a 
sea of perils, amid which duty was the safest anchorage. 
As with this guiding faith the young woman sought her 
bed, her heart was warmed with the gladness of strong, 
young hope; and, as she beheld the twilight glow brighten 
with the glory of the crimsoned heavens, she sank upon 
her knees in praiseful communion with that All-Father in 
whose goodness she so fervently believed. 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


^53 


CHAPTER XXI. 

At the early hour appointed for the market voyage, 
Ebba sprang from her bed and hastening to the casement 
peered out into a blank gray void. The fog was of such 
enshrouding density that all matter seemed re-dissolved 
into formless chaos. Or, if objects were possible in such a 
void, they were hidden under a dank veil so impenetrable 
that their existence fatigued the imagination. A move- 
less mist held all things in soaked and clammy uniformity ; 
the usual sounds of the morning were hushed as in a 
sepulchre, and only low plaintive drippings were heard 
through the gloom, like voices of weeping. A chilling 
fear crept to the heart of the 3^oung girl as she stole softly 
to her grandmother's door. Holding her breath she lis- 
tened for interior sounds with a feeling strangely fraught 
with blended hope and fear. Strong, clear respiration 
bore its cheery token to her ear and she glided from the 
house with a lighter heart. 

On the porch she met Olaf. He had been to Druid Jarl 
in search of weather-omens. From birds alighting in its 
branches or from animal entrails which Varg might have 
dragged about its trunk he had hoped to gather auguries 
according to an old superstition vaguel}^ associated with 
mystic paganism. But the Sphynx-like oak withheld its 
secrets. 

“ No use,” said the disgusted Olaf, ” Druid Jarl is as 
soaked and dumb as all else this morning, and his old 
limbs only lodges a wet owl, and this blind fog is too 
thick e’en for his night-eyes. But it won’t last long.” 

Nor did it; for the speaker had hardly essayed a fresh 
effort to pierce the fog before a heralding whiff and faint 
streak of blue sky betokened speedy clearing weather, 
which in due time found Kama and her young mistress 
with baskets of table supplies at the busy quay in 
Stockholm, with Olaf and the market barge following in 
the distance. 

Ebba was not without experience as a vendor of rural 


54 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


wares. Enforced practice had made her an expeditious if 
not a shrewd saleswoman. Acquainting herself with the 
condition of the market she disposed of the small articles 
borne by Kama and contracted for the ‘sale of the bulkier 
products to be later delivered by Olaf. Then, after at- 
tending to some errands in the busy Staden, she felt free 
to pay the visit to the Countess B. which that lady had 
been warmly urging. But first she had a strange impulse 
to visit the scene of the late brutal assault upon her 
brother. Pursuing the Baltic shore of Sodermalm she 
reached the spot with an odd mingling of curiosity and 
dread, and then wandered on until through a vista of 
leafy framework her eye caught an unchanting picture of 
bright water and wooded shore. 

Wishing to obtain further and nearer views she turned 
aside and taking a winding footpath found her way to the 
water’s edge. Overhanging boughs hushed the near 
waves in cooling shade, over which quivered spots of 
glossy sunshine. Beyond lay a graceful curvature of 
shore with continuing coquetry of sunshine and shade. 
Lured by the charming sight Ebba strayed unconsciously 
beyond her course. Recalling herself at length she was 
about to retrace her steps when she saw further on a mass 
of jagged rocks and intermingling copse festooned with 
clinging vines. It was just such a wild odd jumble of 
nature’s saucy work as most captivated the wa3^ward 
fanc}^ of the girl. She could not resist the temptation to 
peer into its jangled recesses. As she approached the 
twisted pathway divided, leading on one site to a rustic 
seat, and on the other to a concealed glen opening into 
a natural bower completely hidden from view. With a 
low murmur of delight Ebba seated herself on a small 
crooked bough without and yielded to the dreamy sur- 
roundings. 

Thus absorbed, it was some moments before her ear 
caught what seemed the soft murmur of human voices. 
Through the leafy obscurity she could not see that two 
persons sat embowered closely behind her, while the hid- 
deir couple, occupied with absorbing talk, were still more 
unconscious of her presence. Amid the broken rumble of 
the low voices no words were at first distinguishable; but 
gradually, with the quieting influences about her, Ebba 
found the sounds to be growing more audible. More than 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


155 


once she fancied she recognised familiar voices, and at 
length her ear caught a tone that was unmistakable. In- 
stinctively she held her breath and listened. Yes, she 
thought that was surely the voice of Halvor Mondahl. 
Again she lent her ear, bending eagerly toward the hidden 
speaker. The words seemed at first confused, but with a 
lull of the rustling leaves she distinctly heard the mur- 
mured words “love” and “ obdurate heart,” followed by 
confused and broken sentences amid which she caught 
onh" the disconnected utterances of “ despair ” and “ no- 
blest of women,” and after a pause the lower and more 
tremulous words which she thought sounded like ‘ ‘ cruel 
triumph” and “self-exile.” She had not heard a con- 
nected sentence; all had been confused and fragmentary; 
yet the overheard words were uttered in a voice of pas- 
sionate, if subdued, emotion. And that voice could be no 
other than the voice of Halvor Mondahl. Of that she was 
quite sure. 

With a thumping heart Ebba started to her feet. She 
must instantly leave the .spot. She could not honorably 
listen to what was not intended for her ear; and the 
tempter she must put behind her while she might. With 
trembling limbs she was moving off when more audible 
tones from the bushes arrested her steps. She both longed 
and dreaded to hear what might follow. She shuddered 
at her indecision. For duty and honor were plain. Again 
she essayed to quit the place, but her will was paralyzed; 
she seemed rooted to the spot. The hidden speaker con- 
tinued : 

“ Friendship ! I’ve outgrown that; milk for babes, but 
meat for — Doubt? Ah, if I could doubt; but if e’er a man 
loved — ” 

The voice of a lady seemed to cut short the sentence. 
It was too low to be distinguished at first, but soon its un- 
impassioned tone and its measured and gentle accents re- 
vealed the well-known speech of the lady Iduna. 

“ Change !” resumed the male voice, “ that indeed be- 
longs to all that is human; but my love I believe is more 
than human; if it be maddening it hath a lifting and pro- 
phetic fervor, and if a life of devotion to — ” 

The sighing wind and sudden chatter of an alighted 
bird devoured the words, but they were soon heard again 
with renewed emphasis; and after a reference to the Lon- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


156 

don Embassy and an impending departure, there was a 
broken but glowing sentence ending with “make me the 
happiest man in Sweden or banish me from it, ’ ’ which was 
followed by a farewell in words too low to be clearly dis- 
tinguished. 

Ebba hurried away, bearing a weight of self-conviction. 
Nor could she readily lighten the burden, although she 
had heard with an unwilling ear and protesting will. And 
as she had yielded thus far she could not resist the further 
temptation to shield herself behind some chance shrubbery 
and glance backward to the lover’s binding place. In 
a moment she saw the lady Iduna and Halvor emerge 
from their leafy retreat and walk away absorbed in con- 
fiding intercourse. Thought she then of Bengt Ericson’s 
mocking gossip ? 

As Ebba turned away in an opposite direction her first 
sensation was that of being stunned. She was not an ex- 
clamatory or sentimental young lady. She had no fond- 
ness for nursing a secret sorrow or comprehension of that 
sickly affectation of real passion which 3^et lingered in mod- 
ified form from the olden knight-errantry. From her first 
acquaintance with Halvor Mondahl she had enjoyed the 
health}^ pleasure of meeting a manly young fellow of in- 
telligent views and wholesome impulses: but she had 
never really questioned her heart respecting him, and lit- 
tle suspected that it harbored any feeling that evaded con- 
fession. Indulging no morbid subtleties, this young 
woman with pure aims and free circulation of healthy 
blood, had a summary way of disposing of puzzling 
questions by simple intuition. In this way she had 
conceived an exalted idea of the tender passion, regarding 
it as an immortal gift of God to be treated with a tender 
reverence akin to awe, never as a thing for sport or ban- 
ter. 

When, therefore, mysterious questionings had come to 
her touching Halvor’s partiality for her, she had brushdd 
them away impatiently as something pertaining to the dis- 
tant future, and with the feeling of one seeking to avoid 
premature responsibility. This sudden intimation of a 
po.SvSible heart-summons seemed therefore like a challenge 
from unkindly fate. It confronted her girlish unconscious- 
ness abruptly with her own woman’s heart ; it surprised 
her with puzzling tremor and confusion. What meant 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


157 


this awed consciousness, this quickened pulse, this strange 
mad thing so like mean jealousy which clutched at her 
soul? Yet what really was Halvor to her, or she to Hal- 
vor? What was it to her if he liked the lady Iduna and 
meant to marry her? What right had she — had — he — 
what — 

But the writer of these pages frankly concedes his 
inability to probe the intricacies of the human heart, and 
he avers his special helplessness in the shadow of its 
great life-passion. He promptly relegates all to that 
unknowable realm wherein the lowliest heart of our 
kind locks its humble secret as securely as the proudest 
against the boasted explorations of science; and, while 
this poor girl wanders through the alien streets bearing 
the first burden of that great mystery which from the 
beginning has been the common heritage of mankind, the 
reader is invited to a large pleasant apartment in the 
fashionable quarter of Stockholm, where some old 
friends are discussing an old topic. The Countess B. is 
entertaining in her agreeable way some chance callers, 
and the company are engaged in a lively running talk 
chiefly respecting the party and incidents of those mid- 
summer festivities in which most of them had partici- 
pated. 

“Yet Herr Mondahl,” said one of the guests, “loves 
her methinks.” 

“Ah, truly,” was the reply, “and a most devoted 
lover is he, though a little shy: see ye not how his eyes 
and his mood alike do wait upon hers?” 

“ And goes he when to London?” queried Mons A. 

“ The first of the next coming month as I do hear.” 

“ September — so soon ? ah, then, ’tis a losing chance, I 
fear me, for our young diplomat.” 

“ The more so, perchance, that her own mind doth our 
Mamsell Borjeson know not yet herself, methinks.” 

“So think I,” replied Mons A. “She hath e’er a 
quick insight: yet hath she given little heed to any man, 
and is withal the greater riddle to herself. ’Twere well 
in that case to bide with us yet longer as maid, and as old 
Capulet would put it e’en 

‘ Let two more summers wither in their pride 
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. ’ ” 


58 


Ebba Borjeson. 


“Two more summers!” exclaimed the elder Back- 
strom spitefully, “ ripe or unripe, it’ll be longer than that 
ere she’s the bride of Halvor Mondahl, to my thinking.” 

“ All unused to the world’s ways verily is she now,” 
said Mons A. “She better loves rocks and trees than 
men.” 

“ And better so,” merrily said the Countess, “ than love 
some men we wot of,” and so the ready tact and 
roguish glee of the hostess from time to time turned aside 
the drifting scandal of small talk, which in spite of her ef- 
forts continued to show its evil tendencies. 

“ And young Halvor must perforce solace himself with 
the charms of the fair Iduna.” 

“Solace himself!” exclaimed the same Backstrom; 
“Indeed! And who then is the matchless creature for 
lack of whom men must needs be solaced. Believe who 
will Kbba Borjeson’ s pretended indifference to Halvor 
Mondahl. So do not I. A gay life at the London Court 
is not an every day offering to a plain country girl with- 
out wealth or style. Solace forsooth ! Fie, a bold man 
is he who weds one who is already wedded more to 
her own oddities than to the usages of polite society. 
Upon my word she hath — ’ ’ 

“ But scant courtesy withal,” interposed the young scion 
with gaping languor; for in his blooded stupidity he was 
disposed to regard lack of wit in himself as want of cour- 
tesy in others. ’ ’ 

“But a nobler girl, my friends,” said the Countess 
warmly, “breathes not in our Sweden. A pure true soul 
is she with the simple brave spirit of the old Norse blood 
and growing e’er like unto the grand old Generalskan.” 

“ Bravo ! hear, hear !” came from more than one of the 
guests. 

“ And a most valiant champion withal,” said the merry 
Mons, “ of true love. Remember ye her burning words 
and pale face at Skokloster as she did chant forth its 
praises e’en as an inspired priestess?” 

“ Aye, aye; and we recall as well how she vanquished 
thee, valiant trifler.” 

“ I do confess me as much, and could e’en have said 
almost thou persuadest me to be a — lover.” 

“ A convert, a convert !” exclaimed the hostess gayly. 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


159 


“ aye, verily, a convert. After 
lass despair.” 

” Not so fast, fair Countess, 
’tis a dilemma most appalling. 
Spenser ? 


this let no lone swain or 

Between the two horns 
What saith this English 


‘That love with gall and honey doth abound; 

But if the one be with the other weigh’d. 

For every drachm of honey therein found, 

A pound of gall doth over it redound,’ ” 

” Nay, ’tis unfair to partly quote,” said the Countess; 
for in that same Faery Queen is’t not said that 

■ ‘ Such is the power of that sweet passion, 

That it all sordid baseness doth expel. 

And the refined mind doth newly fashion 
Unto a fairer form which now doth — ’ ” 

” Sta}^ fair hostess, now will I turn the tables on thee; 
for doth not the quoted Spenser ne’ertheless say; 

‘ Love does reign 

In stoutest minds and niaketh monstrous war; 

He niaketh war, he maketh peace again. 

And yet his peace is but continued jar : 

O miserable men that to him subject are !’ ” 

“Then will I,” said the Countess, in a slightly vexed 
tone, ” quote against thee a greater than Spenser. Pray, 
reach me hither that volume of Shakespeare. Now hear,” 
she continued, turning to a favorite passage, ” how love 
doth exalt her votaries. 

‘ Haply I think on thee, and then my state 

Like to the lark at break of day arising 

From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate; 

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings 
That then I scorn to change my fate with king’s.’ ” 

“Ready for thee again, good foe; and from thy last 
authority, e’en the world’s greatest bard : hear, friends ! 

‘ O brawling love ! O loving hate ! 

O any thing, of nothing first create ! 

O heavy lightness ! serious vanity ! 

Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health ! 
Still-waking sleep I’ 


i6o Ebb a Borjeson. 

Make the most of it and ’tis but a jumble of contradic- 
tions at best.” 

“Nay, not so.” replied the lady, who grasped the 
volume and under the exultant gaze of her antagonist long 
turned the leaves before finding the lines she sought. 

” Ah, I have it ; now hear ye all,” and she exultingly 
read: 


‘ But love first learned in a lady’s eyes. 

Lives not alone immurred in the brain; 

But with the motion of all elements. 

Courses as swift as thought in every power; 

And gives to every power a double power 
Above their functions and their offices !’ ” 

“ And doubly now is thy Love's Labour Lost; for e’en 
from that drama I come at thee thus: 

‘ Love is full of unbefitting strains 
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain.’ ” 

” Again,” continued Mons, leaning over and turning the 
leaves, 

“ ‘ Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. 

And therefore, is winged Cupid painted blind.’ ” 

“And yet again,” and in a tone of mock sympathy 
Mons A. cast his roguish glance around as he read, 

“ ‘ Cupid is a knavish lad 

Thus to make poor females mad.’ ” 

‘‘Incorrigible monster!” exclaimed several ladies at 
once. ‘‘Yet is true love,” continued the hostess, ‘‘so 
many-sided, so all-curing that e’en this scouting heretic is 
not, methinks, beyond its spell. Solace thyself with these 
words: yet stay; their rudeness is unfit from hostess to — ” 

‘‘ Nay, read on fair foe,” said Mons; “ lay on, Macduf !” 
and the lady read : 

“ ‘ Things base and vile holding no quality 
Love can transform to form and dignity.' ” 

‘‘Nay, e’en there, my vanquished one, is there no 
escape for thee ; for read we not that 

‘ The hind that would be mated by the lion 
Must die for love * * * » 


Ebb a Borjeson. i6i 

“Nay, more yet: for numberless are they who echo 
this: 


‘ I hold him but a fool that will endanger 
His body for a girl that loves him not.’ ” 

“ O, the unselfish chivalry of modern times ! alas, has 
it pme to such a pass ? Better the dreamy idiocy of old 
knight-errantry,” with which sighing observation the 
cheery hostess retired with an affectation of despair. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

There was a lull in the contest of quotations, and some 
of the ladies were feeling a little vexed as their continued 
silence seemed a self confession of defeat, when relief 
was afforded bv the timely entrance of a servant who 
announced another caller. All eyes were directed to the 
door. 

“O Valkommen ! Valkommen !” exclaimed the hostess 
cordially advancing to meet the visitor. ” Best of 
greetings, dear Ebba. Friends, all hail to Mamsell Bor- 
jeson ” 

“ To the rescue !” said a chorus of voices as the new 
comer was saluted. “ O timely re-inforcement ! We are 
glad enough at your coming ; now for the battle.” 

Ebba ga/.ed ’round enquiringly among the speakers. 

“ O, contention dire,” said the hostess, “hath fiercely 
waged here and divers things- and all colors vile and 
good — black, white and blended hath love shone forth 
withal.” 

“Now, what saith our thoughtful froken,” queried 
several,” “we would gladly hear from Ebba Borjeson.” 

But that young lady, shaking her head with a deprecat- 
ing smile, declined’ to respond. The company were 
clamorous to hear from her and gathered ’round her in 
gleeful urgency: but she persisted in her silence. 

“ Ebba Borjeson on the midsummer journey,” said one 
of her admirers, “did unhorse the fiercest of true-love’s 
mockers: she then did contend not alone for mutual 


II 


i 62 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


love — love when returned, but e’en for unrequited love. 
What saith she now? Pray, speak to us and for us.” 

Shrinking by instinct and habit from the place of 
spokeswoman, the young lady modestly persisted in 
declining the task assigned her. This avoidance of notice 
had always been her marked inclination, and the reader 
will guess that there were additional motives connected 
with her late experiences which threatened self-en- 
tanglement, for persisting in her refusal. But the 
urgency of her companions increased, and some demon- 
stration from her they were determined upon. 

” 0 . do give us aid, we beg! Speak for true love; 
surely ’tis the cause of all true women: Ebba Borjeson be 
our champion.” 

Still Ebba declined the proffered honor. 

” Well, well,” resumed the triumphant Mons A; “since 
the champion declines to take up the gauntlet as thrown 
down, perhaps we may compromise on the truth of old 
Odin’s discourse in Hava-mal, ne’er yet gainsayed, that it 
requireth good sense to be a skilful lover. But for me 
match I the sentiment of that old English Beaumont 
’gainst all your love ditties, when he says, — 

‘Naught in this world’s sweet, were men but wise to see’t, 
Save melancholy, O sweet melancholy. ’ 

Yet withal no tilt needs be ’twixt love and melanchol3^ 
for verily much the same they be — twin maladies as like as 
two peas.” 

“ Perversity itself art thou !” said the Countess. “Hear 
ye now this cheeriest prattler in the land prate of melan- 
choly, forsooth; and his rhyme is as mixed as his reason.” 

“More mixed, fair ladies, seeing the misery unmixed 
that 3"our love leadeth unto ; for verily is not matrimon^^ 
but a luring device for the lawful torture of its votaries?” 

“The torture, methinks,” quietly observed the hitherto 
silent Lars, “is alike of subject and sense. What with 
love, melancholy and philosophy — with quotations from 
British bards and heathen gods, are we not muddled e’en 
deeper in original darkness ? And perchance fair Truth 
is sacrificed here e’en as our staid and even-paced Luther- 
anism suffereth betwixt old Rome and fierce Galvanism on 
the one hand, and conscience votaries and non-conforming 
Quakers on the other.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


163 


“ Yet the truth is with us,” said the Countess, “and e’en 
if the argument doth seem against us yet shineth e’er 
struggling truth all the brighter for her travail. But e’en 
in words would we conquer if our champion would speak.” 

Again there was a call for Ebba. Alike for the sport 
and the deeper interest in the theme they were bent upon 
further talk and readings on the mooted question; and 
with playful insistence they entreated her to aSvSist in their 
purpose. Her pale face smiled sadly as she quietly be- 
sought them to desist* from their persuasions. But they 
persevered. 

“Why, good friends,” she said at length, ” what then 
would you have of me ? Know ye not that love is some- 
thing to be experienced, not expounded? Its realm is 
the heart, not the head. ’Tis not a thing to be judged or 
interpreted through the understanding ; and if the heart 
be dumb think ye speech availeth aught?” 

‘ ‘ But others have paraded the sayings of the wise and 
gifted to deride its blessed mission.” 

” Yes, it hath e’er been made the play of fancy and the 
game of fiends and fools, as well as the object of skeptic 
wit, but in all great trials it hath proven the soul’s life 
and anchor e’en where the paltry stuff and lumbering 
tricks of the intellect have been vain.” 

” Our chief opponent hath quoted England’s poets. Do 
thou quote, we beg, and speak not less for our side.” 

“Were woman,” replied Ebba, ‘‘to simply quote her 
own heart, methinks it should match aught else.” 

‘‘ Good! hear, hear!” said a clamor of voices. 

‘ ‘ The English Spenser, methinks, hath somewhere said : 

‘ Love is life’s wealth, ne’er spent but ever spending. 

More rich by giving, taking by discarding; 

Love’s life’s reward, rewarded in rewarding. 

Then from thy wretched heart fond care remove; 

Ah! should’st thou live but once love’s sweets to prove. 
Thou wilt not love to live unless thou live to love.’ ” 

‘‘ Bravo ! the scoffer is already vanquished.” 

” Nay," the matter is most excellent I grant ye: yet I 
call it but quits. ’Tis e’en a drawn battle, for I dare avow 
that at best lovers can only exclaim: — 

‘ O how this spring of love resembleth 
The uncertain glory of an April day ; 

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun 
And by and by a cloud takes all away.’ ” 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


1 64 

“ Ah, true enough,” breathed Ebba in a low voice, 
” 'tis not indeed all sunshine; but what a colorless mono- 
tone would life present without its shadows withal : they 
do give it e’er changeful beauty howe’er darkening, and 
oft what seem its dire besetments harmonize toward its 
completer unity.” 

“Harmony and unity, say you? Why, surely, clouds 
upon love’s bright disk do make but discord and misery.” 

“ But this ignoble thing that goeth in love’s name — this 
pitiful sham, this coarse, blind, animalism, this bes- 
tial instinct of passion is no more love than painted 
fire is real flame: it is as far beneath it as earth is beneath 
heaven. Why, friends, love is a foretaste and prophecy of 
the life eternal; ’tis an emanation from the godhead — a 
flash of unquenchable fire, the brighter its light the deeper 
its shadows; and e’en the shadows are merciful in that 
they temper the blinding light to our gauge of vision. It 
giveth the martyr spirit that doeth and dieth for the loved 
one, that weigheth his lightest wish against all the weighty 
world beside.” 

The impelling spirit of the old Berserks seemed to carry 
the speaker beyond her control. In her fervor the hot 
blood mounted to her cheeks and her eyes seemed to gaze 
upon far off vistas, when suddenly, with a look of alarm 
she checked herself and shrank aside, while a murmur of 
commenting voices followed her outburst. Then it was 
discovered how rapidly the time had passed. The con- 
versation gradually subsided as the company drew apart, 
and soon the guests, with man}^ polite acknowledgments, 
one after another took their leave. 

Left to themselves Ebba and her hostess passed an 
evening in a delicate freedom of intercourse grounded 
upon a cordial appreciation, each of the other’s character. 
The Countess had noticed from the first the fixed wan 
features and pre-occupied mood of her visitor, and she 
sought to rally her with kindly hints and cheery badinage; 
but these being parried with a shielding quietude of 
manner which grew the more impregnable the more it was 
assailed, the well-bred lady changed her tactics, and with 
the nameless resouices and delicate tact of which she was 
thorough mistress gradually drew Ebba from her inward 
seclusion. 

The two ladies had long enjoyed a friendship of a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


165 

durable nature, founded less upon close intimacy than 
upon a wise knowledge and considerate treatment of each 
other’s strong traits. If there were no perilous con- 
fidences between them there was the safer tie of mutual 
respect which was nourished into tenderness from the 
joint fountain of their wholesome self-respect. The 
conversation of two such women usually takes a wider 
range than when it is fed by the more toothsome but less 
healthy diet of emotional interchanges; and hence this 
sensible couple, after an evening’s intercourse, retired 
with . an agreeable sense of broadening sympathies 
untainted with the sated aftertaste which offends the 
partakers of forbidden fruit. The guards to their jealous 
individuality had been let down only as the mutual kindli- 
ness of their sheltering self-respect had been built up. 

But however gladly diverted from herself, Ebba went 
to bed with a weary heart. The thronging events of the 
day were too intruding to permit of speedy sleep. The 
longest days of midsummer had gone, but in the still 
lengthy twilight of that high latitude the mingled street 
sounds were prolonged far toward the dawn of the new 
day. When these at last ceased she still lay awake and 
listened to the moaning of the solemn oaks in the 
neighboring park. Long, too, she heard the low wash of 
the Baltic against the many-isled city; the lonely bark of 
persistent house-dogs came mournfully to her through the 
weary night, and when all other sounds ceased she heard 
the sombre-voiced watchman calling from the churches 
the unavailing hours which should ere long herald the 
dawn. The wakeful girl persisted bravely in her efforts 
to coax much-needed sleep. Again and again she struck 
away the flitting spectre that haunted her, but with a 
start she as often heard the confiding words in pestering 
recurrence from the hidden couple in their stolen retreat, 
and again the quivering lights and shadows playing hide- 
and-seek with her own quickened pulses joined in mocking 
at her tortured consciousness. 

Partially escaping, at length, from her ghastly thraldom, 
Ebba sought further oblivion by recalling incidents in the 
eventful history of Stockholm which had ever been a 
fruitful field for her childish imagination. She thought 
of old Birgir Jarl, the city’s founder, and recalled old 
fancies of the stormy vikings until these became oddly 


i66 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


mingled with lover’s smiles and familiar faces taunting 
her amid half-concealing foliage, and at last she lost her- 
self in a strangely jumbled vision of the invading Danes 
triumphantly bearing Halvor and the lady Iduna amid 
alternating scenes of heavenly bliss and the historic woes 
of the olden “ Bath of Blood.”, 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Ebba awoke with a start from her uneas}^ slumbers. 
When she opened her window shades the sun looked down 
upon her from a lofty angle in the serene morning 
sky. The scents of the ripened summer and a watery soft- 
ness from sea and lake pervaded the air. Hastening her 
toilet she speedily presented herself to her hostess. The 
Countess fancied she could read in the weary face of her 
young friend the tale of a restless night. But she refrained 
from undue questionings and her considerate hospitality in- 
duced the calm, not the stress of mutual entertainment. 

After breakfast they visited the ancient Storkyrkan and 
saw its various war trophies and antique objects, including 
the helmet and spurs of the pious old viking, St. Olaf of 
Norway. They wandered among the vast collections in 
the Royal State Library, where they saw the old Latin 
Bible of 1521, bearing notes and commentaries in the hand 
of Martin Luther; where they examined with more than 
woman’s curiosity that famous manuscript copy of the 
Scriptures which was written by Benedictine monks upon 
three, hundred asses’ hides during a period of five hundred 
years: and where they beheld the precious copy of Cicero 
de Officiis, of the first edition of books printed on moveable 
types executed by Faust and Schaefer in 1461. Then de- 
scending from the Royal ‘‘hill of lions.” over which the 
two bronze animals have stood majestic guard from the 
days of the first Vasa, the ladies passed to the centre of 
the Stad to view St. Gertrude’s Church. Thence turning 
westward they soon found themselves stra^dng amid lively 
boat-girls along the shores of lake Maelare, whence after 
admiring the newly completed Riddarhuset they entered 
the historic church of Riddarholm, saw the tombs of Gus- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


167 


tavus Adolphus, Torstenson and Baner, and lingered 
among the collected trophies of the Thirty Years’ War 
with the honored remains of Sweden’s imperishable heroes. 

After dinner the Countess proposed a climb up the ter- 
raced ascent of Mosebacke for a view of the picturesque 
environs afforded from its lofty wooded summit. Her vis- 
itor’s face brightened at the prospect, and the exercise 
and excitement of the tramp brought a momentary glow 
into her cheeks. And never was toilsome walk more 
richly rewarded: for beneath them lay that enchanting 
picture of embowered city greeting the nuptials of isle- 
studded lake and sea-fjord which has long been the wonder 
and admiration of the traveling world. Approaching 
mainlands lifted their crowning forests north and south, 
and between them emerald isles and mirroring waters, 
city spires and the masts of shipping, sequestered dwell- 
ings and enlivening pleasure-boats, smiled in the mellow- 
ing lights and shadows of the tranquil afternoon. 

Close at hand in the thick woods stood the old dusky 
red wind-mill linked with the times of Queen Christina 
and recalling to Ebba the secret interview she had recently 
had with her fugitive brother in close vicinity. To that 
brother her thoughts fondly turned: .she wondered where 
he could be: she dwelt with sisterly sympathy upon his 
hunted and homeless life, and she had a new sense of the 
priceless ties of kinship. Then as she mused, her listless 
gaze dwelt a moment upon some idle vessels lying be- 
calmed in the near view, while far out among the islands 
in the Baltic she saw a lonely sail stoutly holding its diffi- 
cult course to a distant goal against opposing currents. 
The two situations seemed ‘to typify the common contrasts 
in human life— idle ease and aimless companionship on 
the one hand, and sturdy effort with the lonely heroism of 
noble purpose on the other. 

With this came musings of the centuries of human con- 
flicts which this region had witnessed. She thought how 
often its fair waters had been swept by plundering viking 
and vexed by trading Christian — how long the land had 
suffered from the ravages of nature and man ; and after all 
had come the peace she beheld — whatever the dark bur- 
den of the past or the doubtful promise of the future; there 
lay the waters and isles of the self-same sea and lake 
wrapped in the sure-coming calm which has followed the 


1 68 Ebb a Borjeson. 

warring round of toil and rest, hope and despair, since the 
world began. 

The fair picture lulled thought but aroused action. 
Ebba remembered her wandering brother, her home, her 
waiting grandparent, and a longing for speed}' return sud- 
denly seized her. The two ladies sauntered back to the 
house, and Ebba, pleading urgent home duties, took leave 
of her kind hostess and hastened away. Craving brisk 
movement she scarcely regretted the rising head winds 
which at times compelled a vigorous use of her oars. 
Rounding into the home fjord the more favoring breeze 
fast bore her to welcoming hands and hearts. Olaf was 
busy loading for another market voyage; he gave Ebba 
his peculiarly mixed salution as usual, but the stormy 
Varg found the occasion too much for even his usual 
warmth of welcome; for in the paroxysm of his delight he 
well-nigh choked himself in throatful belchings, and, run- 
ning with downward curling tail, described furious circles 
around his young mistress and rolled himself before her 
footsteps in the sheer madness of his devotion. 

The old lady pressed Ebba to her breast in silent ten- 
derness. She evinced unusual gratification at her grand- 
child’s return so much sooner than was expected, and she 
long retained her hand within her own with a continuing 
look as if occupied with something she was reluctant to 
mention. But after due interchange of greetings and en- 
quiries the Generalskan at length took occasion to tell her 
grandchild that Bengt Ericson had been there in her ab- 
sence to again urge his suit. She waited for some 
reply from Ebba, but her only response after a long 
silence was : 

“Well, then, my grandma?” 

“ He was very p.ofuse in promise and profession and 
e’en, methought, with o’erwrought vows did plead on 
bended knees and up -turned face for my intercession in 
his behalf.” 

“Well?” again responded the girl after another 
pause. 

“ I did then free my mind of that which hath sore op- 
pressed it; for I did esteem it but honest to say that I could 
do naught for him more, and that he must in whate’er he 
sought plead his own cause and take his own chance e’en 


Ebb a Borjeson. 1 69 

as ought in fairness e’er be done ’twixt gallant swain and 
true-hearted maiden.” 

The old lady closely scanned the features of her grand- 
child as she uttered these words, but the calm face 
over which swept a strange swift light, gave no sign 
of the thoughts it concealed. The Generalskan re- 
sumed. 

‘ ‘ Bengt Ericson did then suddenly put aside his fawn- 
ing mood and with ungracious speech did berate the young 
Halvor Mondahl and despitefully assail his good name, 
insomuch that my blood did drive speech to hot rebuke, 
and when I did moreover make shift to defend the young 
man, the ungenerous suitor did with scowling face straight- 
way depart, muttering low curses and mysterious mouth- 
ings hinting of revenge.” 

Ebba had slowly paced the room as the old lady last 
spoke, and when she ceased she quietly took both the 
hands of her grandparent and stood for some moments 
earnestly gazing into her eyes without speaking. The old 
lady with an uplifted look silently invoked a blessing 
upon her grandchild, whereupon the latter impressing 
a soft kiss upon the wrinkled forehead breathed the 
loving “ dll” and with a murmured ” fare-thee-well” re- 
tired to her room. 

The next morning Ebba and her grandmother sat in the 
large living room before a low fire. Although the weather 
continued warm at midday the advancing season was 
bringing cooler nights, and especially upon rain}" days and 
on raw shrouded mornings white with mist a light fire in 
the early hours was found necessary to the old madame’s 
comfort. 

The two ladies had been conversing upon that constantly 
recurring theme, the household resources. The piospects 
of the matuiing crops were of vital interest to them, and 
they had watched with increasing anxiety what seemed to 
them their lessening promise. Both diminished products 
and a continuance of prevalent low prices threatened sore 
aggravation of their troubles. But much as they dreaded 
confirmation of their fears, they felt the growing need of 
knowing the exact condition of affairs; and hence they 
took the usual course of summoning Olaf to a conference. 
To this recourse there was a moment’s hesitation, caused 
by the old lady’s half uttered doubt whether the poor crop 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


170 

prospects were not partially caused by this very servant’ s 
lack of good management, and in her growing despondency 
she was even disposed to question the continuance of Olaf’s 
olden devotion to their interests. 

“ Nay, my grandma,” said Ebba, ” would not, I’m sure, 
wrong our e’er loyal Olaf. Is not he e’en our old-man-faery 
of cleanly thrift who bringeth luck to family and farm, 
serving us faithfully in all things ? Our viking ancestors 
on their absent raids, methinks ne’er left a safer home- 
guardian.” 

” ’Tis well, my child,” was the prompt response of the 
Generalskan, ashamed of her growing tendency to 
querulousness, and proud to indulge the olden impulses. 
” Olaf is a long- tried servant; it were ungenerous to doubt 
the honest fellow. Well hath he served us in good and 
ill fortune, and well I should know it. I do withdraw all 
doubt of him.” 

Whether impelled by prophetic instinct or simple family 
solicitude, Varg exhibited a determination to be present 
at this household conference. Clinging closely to Olaf’s 
side the dog managed to enter an apartment to which he 
was not usually admitted. Warily scanning the faces of 
the several counsellors the intelligent creature acted a 
scarcely less politic or serviceable part than that of the 
average member of deliberative bodies; for if he took no 
leading or noisily aggressive part in the proceedings he at 
least gave close attention to them and made neither a 
sleepy nor selfish contribution to the family consultation. 

‘ ‘ The rye and the barley, ’ ’ replied Olaf to the query of the 
ladies, ” is past makin’ or breakin’ ; leastways they will be 
fit for the sickle in a fortnight or less, and if we save ’em 
from the weather they won’t be heavy and they won’t be 
light; but the oats and the little might o’ wheat haint no 
stand, and can’t be much, weather or no weather.” 

The weighty vagueness of the summary precluded fur- 
ther consideration. The ladies had imagined that many 
and grave matters depended upon numberless items of in- 
formation to be obtained from the man-of-all-work; but 
the grave council was brought to speedy termination by 
the Generalskan, who, after a few brief enquiries touching 
other outdoor matters, dismissed Olaf and the dog with an 
imperious gesture, and turned impatiently to the subject 
of the proposed attendance at the re-opening of the Osmo 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


71 


church. After much deliberation the old lady decided 
that it would be imprudent for her to venture upon so long 
a journey. 

“ But I am sore tempted,” she averred, “ for ’tis but a 
landward step to the head of the lower bight and thence 
a waterway passage nigh to the dear old sanctuary.” 

” Yet how can I leave grandma mine, who, if too ill to 
go, should be too ill to stay — all alone ?” 

‘‘Nay, my child, ’tis no question of illness but of pre- 
caution only; have no apprehension for me, for I shall be 
well enough under Helga’s charge; but verily I should 
ne’er forgive myself should the family have no representa- 
tive in attendance upon occasion so fitting: methinks such 
shortcoming might e’en disturb my Eric in his grave. If 
only in memory of that soldier of the cross I — ’ ’ 

The reverent words of the Generalskan were cut short 
by the sudden opening of a door through which was thrust 
the broad red face and snow-white hair of Helga, with the 
information that a gentleman wished to speak with the 
Generalskan. 

” His name?” queried the old lady straightening her- 
self. 

The bright-hued domestic gave a peculiar wriggle 
intended economically as both a courtesy and an intima- 
tion that the person gave no name. 

” His errand ?” 

The same complicated motion from the party-colored 
servant. 

‘‘ Ebba, prithee give hasty test if the best apartment 
be orderly: stay, child, there perchance be dampness; 
show the gentleman in here.” 

The carroty face disappeared; the ladies hastily adjusted 
furniture and apparel, when a broad-shouldered man with 
small gray eyes and compressed lips entered the room 
with measured steps. 

The ladies arose, a,nd the visitor grasping one hand by 
the other bowed low without speaking. The ladies re- 
mained standing while the stranger still kept silent and 
again bowed low. 

“ By whom, sir,” queried the old lady with impressive 
dignity, ‘‘ are we honored?” 

There was an indefinable expression of mingled servility 
and concealed impertinence in the demeanor of the man. 


172 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Apparently disconcerted by the stately politeness of the 
Generalskan, he replied with an apprehensive air to the 
effect that his name was Sternberg. 

The ladies curtesied. 

“ Will Herr Sternberg,” said the hostess with a queenly 
wave of her hand, ” be good enough to be seated ? ” 

The visitor backed into a seat, his keen gray eyes peer- 
ing alternately ’round the room and at the ladies. 

” Madame,” he began with a hesitating manner, ” I — I 
— have come from Herr — ah — come by direction of — of 
Herr — of Bengt Ericson.” 

The old lady gave a look of querying surprise, 'and the 
visitor prolonging the pause, she inclined her head, bid- 
ding him proceed. 

” I am,” said he very deliberately, ” Herr Ericson’ s so- 
licitor — his legal advisor.” 

He again paused, and the silence threatening embarrass- 
ment the old lady slightly bowed with an intimation that 
she was still able to give all attention. 

“I crave the lady’s pardon; ah, that — that loan, that lit- 
tle matter of your indebtedness, now.” 

‘ ‘ What mean you, sir ? ” 

“That obligation — ah! that money you owe.” 

‘ ‘ I owe ? I am not aware that I owe aught to Bengt 
Ericson,” and she proudly lifted her head. 

” Craving pardon, Madame, you are, then, Bengt Eric- 
son’s debtor. Bengt Erison has purchased the mortgage en- 
cumbering this estate. ’ ’ 

A swift flush of surprise could not be suppressed from 
either lady’s face, while from under the immovable brow 
of the speaker a pair of cold cynical eyes shot a gleam 
of triumph. The man was revenged for having felt him- 
self ill at ease, and following up his advantage, he added 
with merciless calmness : 

“And I am instructed by the assignee to notify 3^011 that 
at the maturity of the next interest instalment the princi- 
pal also will be required to be paid by 3^011 in full.” 

For a single instant the hot color mounted to the pale 
cheeks of the old lady and a fierce light glinted in her 
eyes, but it was followed b3^ a deathly pallor and such 
quivering faintness as threatened her speedy fall. 

Ebba, with an exclamation of alarm, sprang to her relief. 

“ There, there, ’tis gone,” said the venerable lady, niak- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


173 


ing a powerful effort to recover herself; and in another in- 
stant she sat calmly iiprig t looking at the man with a 
resolute expression of gentleness. 

Herr Sternberg, as if fearing h might in some way lessen 
the advantage he had gained, rose to take his leave. The 
commanding appearance of the old Generalskan even as 
she reclined feebly upon Ebba’s arm seemed to disconcert 
him. Standing in a hesitating attitude, with uneasy glances 
divided between the ladies and the door, he at length said 
with assumed solemnity ; 

“ In default of full payment of principal and interest at 
the time indicated, I am instructed to foreclose the mort- 
gage without delay.” 

The old lady, with a slight inclination of her head, re- 
mained silent. 

‘‘Any commands, ladies?” he enquired, with an 
impudent scrutiny of their faces. ‘‘Shall I be the 
honored bearer of any message to Bengt Ericson?” 

The ladies disdained a verbal reply, while their faces, 
less to him than themselves, indicated a negative. 

‘ ‘ No ? Then I wish you a very good morning. ’ ’ 

The man was gone. The ladies sat on in silence. 

‘‘This, then,” said the elder at length, “is what that 
spiteful man meant by his mutterings of revenge. We 
may expect no merc3^ So be it, then.!” 

Ebba threw her arms lovingly about her grandmother 
without speaking. 

“ 'Twas so hard,” presently said the old lady, “ to meet 
the last interest instalment that I have much studied how 
we might pay the next. I had e’en feared that those 
noble oaks the ship builder so coveteth must be sacrificed, 
though ’tis like taking my old heart’s blood: and 
methought the woodman must e’en put axe to that dear 
grove which slopeth its grateful shade to the cows in the 
meadow: but all these would avail scarce more than for 
interest: against the principal they would be but as a tent 
’gainst a whirlwind.” 

“ And ’tis e’en better so,” said Ebba; “the trees shall 
be spared: they have rootage in thy heart e’en as in the 
earth: if thou but keep the steady courage of yore harm 
shall not so reach us.” 

“ Ah, my child, ’tis not this I feel so much as my hurt 
conscience: for I do repent me that e’er I sought to 


174 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


compel thy inclination toward this unworth}' man. Thou 
wert wiser than thy old grandma.” 

” Nay, nay,” protested Ebba, who had gently sought to 
place her hand over the venerable lips to hush their last 
words; ‘ ‘ thou did’st seek only my good, and I was prompted 
more by instinct than wisdom. I deserve no credit for 
simple girlish aversion.” 

“Yet if but an idle whim it had truer aim than oft 
marks matujer judgment.” 

” Nay, my grandma, I ne’er judge people, but feel in my 
heart only whether they be worthy.” 

” Thou wert e’er a strange child, and oft thy wayward- 
ness was like unto wariness ’gainst evil besetments. I 
recall other times when thy seeming wilfulness and blind 
ways did strangely open as into guided paths. ’Tis e’en 
a hint, perad venture, of the light from above. Let us 
pray that it may so shine on, and that the giver thereof 
may have us e’er in His holy keeping. Firm is my trust 
that God will not impose a greater burden than we can 
bear, and ’twere not well for us to carry greatly less.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

At the close of the same week Halvor Mondahl lounged 
languidly in his lonely chamber in Stockholm. He had 
received timely notice to be in readiness for an earlier 
summons to London than had been expected; and he had 
been diligently occupied in making necessary preparations 
therefor. Among these his special anxiety had been to 
complete a certain financial negotiation to which he had 
for several weeks given watchful attention. 

With varying fortune he had at last on this Saturday 
luckily achieved his cherished purpose, and was now en- 
joying that blissful lull of the energies which quiets the 
nervous elation of success. Tired enough he was, but 
the varying excitements of many busy days of hopes and 
fears had buoyed his spirit beyond the reach of bodily 
rest. Fearing that such momentum might carry him far 
into a wakeful night, the young man sought to coax sleep 
by affecting stupor and evading thought. To this end he 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


175 


delayed seeking his bed until he found himself nodding, 
and then hurried to catch the elusive goddess ere she took 
the alarm. 

But no such sharp turn upon wary nature and her min- 
istering angel was destined to real victory. For Halvor 
was soon in the throes of a broken and troubled slumber. 
Bbba and the lady Iduna had strangely changed places. 
It was the latter whom he sought to \^ed and it must have 
been Ebba, then, to whom he confided his heart’s secret in 
the leafy retreat to the refrain of plashing waters and rust- 
ling leaves ! His confused consciousness fought for nor- 
mal life, his wildly driven faculties rallied from huddled 
torpor, the force of his wholesome nature strove against 
feverish distortion. In the struggle he sprang to full 
wakefulness. 

Throwing wide the casement he gazed out upon the 
Baltic, and its stately serenity cooled him to rest. The 
sun was not yet up but his ruddy promise was warming sky 
and sea, and night was fast waning before the dawn. Soon 
a gorgeous display of heaven’s changeful architecture 
filled the eastern sky. Above a massive purple base a 
vast throned temple was forming and dissolving, and its 
jumbled columns, its displaced arches, its shining balus- 
trades were moving into a glorified background for stabler 
re-formation, while far along the low horizon gleaming 
javelins tipped with gold defended the resplendent 
structure on either side. 

Seated in dishabille at his window Halvor deeply mused 
as he watched the spectacle. Its beauty and brightness 
seemed mysteriously interwoven with his relation to the 
two women about whom he had dreamed, and even the 
reassuring light of the morning hardly dispelled illusions 
which haunted him with oddly mingled fear and fondness. 
He began to crave the honester greetings of broadened 
day; he would inhale its freshened breath and “get into 
the verdure.” 

Suddenly he remembered that this was the Sunday 
which had been designated for re-opening the services in 
the old church of Osmo. At once he resolved to attend. 
It would be a long but pleasant ride, and with an early 
start following an earlier breakfast at a cafe he could be in 
time for most of the service. 

While a variety of half-born motives incited the young 


176 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


man to this journey, it would be idle to pretend that the 
hope of finding Ebba there was not the controlling one. 
True, her purposed attendance was rather guessed than 
known, but his heart leapt at the not unreasonable suppo- 
sition that she might be present. The thought had not 
fairly entered his mind before he was impatient to be off, 
while his eagerness was more quickened than cooled by 
the instinctive nicetigs with which he elaborated his toilet 
in view of blissful possibilities. 

Rising the first southward hill from Stockholm Halvor 
breathed the country air with manly zest, and as he pushed 
on he felt the healthful inspiration of influences at once 
restful and invigorating. The day had all the traditional 
charm of a country Sabbath. There was a dreamy azure 
in the depths of the placid sky; the filmiest of white 
clouds toned its steely tint; fields and forests wore the ma- 
turing shades of late summer, and all abroad the promise 
of a golden autumn was chastened by that plaintive sense 
of decay which couples the ripened glory with the im- 
pending doom of the season. 

Nor was Halvor’ s horse insensible to the rustic welcome 
they met, as with quivering nostrils and adjusting ears he 
sped on jauntily with the light karra over the winding 
dusty road. Driver and steed alike snuffed the scent of 
new-mown hay, and both enjoyed ere long a road-side 
pause where the lifted grass wreaked its fragrance from 
between the rounds of one of the broad leaning ladder- 
like curing racks which are ever a feature of Swedish hay- 
fields. Then on they sped past sheeny lakelets and old 
reddish-brown -windmills poising their crude arms in the 
still Sabbath air — on past sunny openings and between 
walled dark masses of lofty evergreens — on over hill and 
dale skirting here a silent glade of tangled birch and juni- 
per and there a festooned tower of mossy rock. 

And with his quickening speed Halvor felt a gladness 
that was fast losing its easeful poise in the tremor of hope. 
As he advanced he began to overtake country people 
wending their way to the church. From crossroads and 
byways, from over the hills and through the woods the 
cheery-faced peasants in their bright dresses trudged on 
with a common object to a common centre. Ascending a 
slow rise further on Halvor sees a flashing vision through 
the dark firs. It is the Baltic fjord widening southward on the 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


177 


left, while on the right its sharpening light cleaves the for- 
est like a gleaming dagger. Pausing to gaze he hears the 
ancient church bell pealing through the woods, and soon 
with a turn of the road the quaint old edifice bursts ab- 
ruptly into view. 

His heart gives a bound ! His pulses quicken with his 
gathering anxieties. He connects the assembling people 
with his soulful perturbation ; he fears its confessing throbs 
may betray his secret. For with the converging crowds 
comes a perturbing sense of an impending crisis. . And 
still the people come. Land and water vie with each 
other in their transit. Many-oared church boats, rowing 
north and south on the fjord, are laden to the guards with 
people of all ages, classes and conditions. On land thrifty 
farmers and poorer work-people line the roads. They ride 
and they trudge afoot. The}^ come with their ruddy-faced 
wives and neatly-clad children; they come with neighing 
horses fat from long rest, and with restless dogs scenting 
strange companionship and entrapped into introductory 
fights with their fellows. 

And now the arriving throngs swarm about the church; 
they speak in halting phrase or range themselves to gaze 
at each other with rustic diffidence. And ever is the won- 
der how the little structure can hold them all. Nor does 
it indeed; but the crowd enjoys the simple pleasure of hu- 
man commingling within doors or without, and not least 
is this among the churchly influences for brotherly gain. 

As Halvor squeezed with the crowd into the little 
church he gazed around with cautious scrutiny; but before 
he found a seat the object of his search had discovered his 
presence. With the fresh remembrance of Halvor’ s se- 
questered interview with lady Iduna it was with peculiar 
constraint that Ebba now saw Halvor Mondahl. The ef- 
fort to overcome this feeling brought a flush to her usually 
composed face; and when she at that moment caught Hal- 
vor’ s eyes intently fixed upon her she crimsoned to her 
very temples. Halvor saw the warm suffusion and his own 
pulses quickened their beat. “At last ! ’’ he thought; for 
with the impenetrable face with which the young woman 
had long masked her heart he had never before detected 
her in an actual blush at seeing him. 

There is nothing a manly lover more dreads than indif- 
ference in the woman he loves. A positive feeling of some 
12 


178 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


kind is preferable, even if it be positive aversion ; for that 
implies a current not a calm, and a current may be turned. 
It was not exactly indifference, it is true, that Halvor en- 
countered in Ebba, but he had suffered inexpressibly from 
a certain placid elasticity in her that seemed sufficient unto 
itself and left him out of its pale. She would either deal 
in piquant banter or commonplaces when he was most 
earnest ; or when he was most depressed would glow with 
an exalted ferver seeking no companionship. Emphati- 
cally her own mistress she thought for herself and scorned 
conventional sentiment. But here she had blushed as 
other girls blush ; and the thought that it was his glance 
that brought the confessing blood into that pale, still face 
sent his own blood tingling through his being. 

“Was ever such music?” he asked himself, as the 
quaint old instrument dallied with its low introductory and 
then swelled with the triumphant chorus. And how deep 
and rich seemed the rector’s voice, how tender and rev- 
erent his tones, how sincere the responses! Sympathy 
seemed to have softened all asperities and fervor succeeded 
to form! The past obstacles to his suit, his jealousy of the 
strange rival, Ebba’s coy willfulness and his own self- 
torments were all forgotten. There was no room in his 
full heart for ought but re-inspiring, all-sufficing hope. A 
glorified tone softened and sanctified all sound, sight and 
thought. Halvor felt his love to be a holy thing attuned 
to the sacred time and place. 

Thus were the lover’s happy thoughts merged in the 
services with tender and sympathetic fervor, and a deep 
peace took possession of his soul. He hardly dared risk 
its disturbance by another glance at Ebba. Her brooding 
presence was enough. But at length his eyes wandered 
round the walls to the dingy old paintings, to the odd 
representations of scriptural scenes, to the grotesque picture 
of the veritable Devil as he was believed to have appeared 
to the earlier Christians. All these, the fair and the. grace- 
less, the worthy and the incongruous, now adjusted them- 
selves to the glad harmony that toned his heart. 

At length he ventured another glance toward his lady- 
love. He caught only a partial view of her face, but it 
was enough, he thought, to reveal a receptive quietude, a 
softened sadness, from which it was easy to derive favor- 
ing omens. Was she not sharing with him the subduing 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


179 


largCvSS of young love’s dream? What so swift and sure as 
Cupid’s verdict? Does not the mad youth so shape and 
color all things with his compelling stress that trifles light 
as air conform hope and fear alike to his mood ? 

The imposing Lutheran services draw to a close. The 
beauty of fatherly tenderness sweetens the venerable face 
of the rector, and his draping surplice is toned with dim 
religious light. SureWheis priest, prophet and patriarch, 
all in one, as with outstretched arms he dismisses his peo- 
ple. Halvor feels faster heart-throbs, for 'now he shall 
look surely into that dear face once more. The pictur- 
esque throng pours from the dim church into the open sun- 
light. Halvor lingers aside and furtive!}" scans the pass- 
ing faces. They seem to move very slowly ; they linger 
and chatter needlessly long; but they must now, he thinks, 
have nearly all left the edifice; and she does not appear. 
Where then can — ? ah, there ! and she comes direct!}- 
to him. 

There was the same serenity, the same indefinable 
something indicative of latent feeling, but surely, he 
thought, less of that exalted pre-occupation which was wont 
to hover above his reach. Ebba carried the half guilty 
conscience of an eaves-dropper. The leaf-hidden confer- 
ence, the overheard words returned to her with renewed 
rebuke. She could not conquor her constraint, and for 
the first time in their acquaintance an embarrassing self- 
consciousness clogged her usually free greeting of the 
young man. With growing confidence his fixed rapt gaze 
assailed an honest girl struggling for calmness. His look 
had the deeper penetration of conscious power. She felt 
her cheeks tingle and in spite of her efforts or in conse- 
quence of them her face blushed scarlet. 

Certainty fast displaced doubt in the suitor’s mind. A 
man deep in his first love can build a grander castle to a 
dizzier height upon a slenderer foundation than any other 
architect in the emotional world. His boldness waxing 
with his hope Halvor invited his friend to ride with him 
upon her return home. She made some considerate ob- 
jection to taking him out of his homeward route, to which 
she added a not very definite reluctance to derange the 
plans or wishes of Olaf, who had brought her to church. 
Formidable obstacles ! The cruelty of inveigling the 
young man from his home — the heinous crime of not 


i8o Ebb a Borjeson. 

putting the convenience of the servant above that of his 
mistress ! 

But all the same the young couple were soon seated to- 
gether riding up the hill on their home return. Reaching 
the summit the young woman turned to the view behind 
them. The bright fjord lost itself southwardly in the many- 
isled Baltic, and the sea’s blue expanse trending far west- 
ward swept and indented the forest-lined coast. In the 
distance a purple headland indicated the site of historic 
Tullgarn, linked with the names of Sweden’s illus- 
trious families; and over all was the sunny quiet of a Sab- 
bath noon. 

Kbba gazed without speaking. But how telling to her 
companion was that silence ! He thought the sky was 
never so benign nor the woods so richly green. The 
brown-faced homely earth had grown strangely beautiful. 
How kindly Dame Nature greeted him with her dear 
wrinkled face ! The sun-kissed peasants were trans- 
formed into radiant beings with divining sympathies, and 
in the spell of its yearning outflow his love found gracious 
kinship witb the rudest boors and most unkempt urchins of 
country side. It was one of those hushed days of late 
summer whose ripened tones verge to autumnal hues, and 
all abroad was a pensive spell, a plaintive premonition of 
early decay. But it was as 3 ^et only a prophecy; for the 
procession of the seasons is later alike in beginning and 
ending in northern latitudes; and although it was now the 
middle of August parties of ^^oung people were still gath- 
ering wild strawberries on the sheltered bight whose 
steep banks are clothed with herbage to the water’s 
edge. 

Along these banks the young couple kept their winding 
course. They felt the charm of the quiet fields, the rich 
deep woods, the glimpses of the bordering water; and 
while they inhaled the summer scents, the song of a 
lonely bird, the creaking of their vehicle, the oar-strokes 
of returning church boats were the only sounds that broke 
the summer stillness — a stillness that emphasized the con- 
sciousness of their beating hearts. They approached a 
sturdy oak spreading its huge limbs at the crossing of two 
roads where stood one of those roofed contribution boxes 
supported by upright posts so often found in many parts of 
Scandinavia. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


i8i 


“ This,” said Halvor, ” is one of the many things that 
attach me to our dear Sweden.” 

“Yes, ’tis something to gladden the hearts of giver and 
receiver.” 

” ’Tis not so much that the poor receive unasked contri- 
butions through these boxes, for charit}^ is confined to no 
one region, but where else could these unguarded collec- 
tions in lonely country places remain long undespoiled 
from prowling marauders?” 

‘‘ Perchance gifts so sacred and defenceless the better 
plead their own protection. The givers are lenders to 
the Lord.” 

“True: but how often it falls out that such seeming 
lenders are scarce less the robbers of the poor. ’ Tis one 
of the strange bents of poor human nature; and thus it is 
that these rude posts are better than monumental marble 
— these un robbed boxes more eloquent than brazen in- 
scriptions in proof of the common honesty of our Sw^edish 
people. Should I not feel proud of my country and be 
sorry to leave it? Nay, I love the very — ” 

He checked himself; for an instant he had felt a strong 
impulse to seize the aiding influences and grapple at once 
with what besieged his heart. But he was afraid to break 
the spell. It was enough to think of the fulness of the 
blissful moments. Halvor had kept his horse in a walk; 
their progress was slow; delay was gain. The sweet after- 
noon wore away: shadows lengthened and the silver light 
hinted of rarer gold. Sitting there beside the girl he 
loved, with wooing nature seconding his cause, utter con- 
tent filled his soul. With such a companion and such min- 
istrations he defied doubt and grew oblivious of time. Oh, 
the enriching joy of young love’s dream ! To the dream- 
ers how rosy the great world ! All-sufficing to them is 
life; for to whom come in such measure the sweet promise 
of its spring-time, the rich content of its summer, the glad- 
dening hope of its autumnal fruitage and above all the up- 
lifting faith whose efflorescence hides all hints of winter’s 
chill? 

But the winged hours flew on, and their wingless Pega- 
sus, whatever the spirit’s soarings, linked the couple with 
things earthly. Behind them they at last had left the 
shining fjord and before them on the distant hill-side they 
saw Druid Jarl pointing with grim kindliness to the ancient 


i 82 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


mansion on the one hand and to the home lakelet and 
sleeping swans on the other. The waning of his oppor- 
tunity made the lover’s heart quake, but not yet would he 
risk a crisis which might dispel the golden present. They 
moved slowly on. 

Olaf had preceded them. There had been no wind to 
aid him but he had been favored with a slight upward 
tide and the helping oars of the neighbors he had taken 
aboard. Halvor was urged to stay to tea, but although 
there was no lack of quiet heartiness in Ebba’s manner, he 
fancied he could detect a half neutralizing apprehension in 
the expression of her face. For a hesitating moment he 
parleyed with himself, when the old hostess appeared and 
supplemented Ebba’s invitation with such gracious and 
peremptory urgency that the young man could do no other 
than yield. 

Halvor was gratefully impressed with the stately yet 
cordial hospitality of the old lady. The reader has already 
inferred that her prejudices had yielded to just and kindly 
feeling toward the young man upon further acquaintance 
with him. Her sympathies had been strongly appealed to 
both by Halvor’ s manly character and his expected con- 
nection with the public service, which recalled the livelier 
life of her own early days. While she had strong an- 
tipathies, with much of the aversion to innovation usually 
characteristic of advancing age, she could never long re- 
sist an unpretentious appeal to her sense of fair play. 

Of course she plied the young people with plentiful 
queries touching their attendance at the Osmo chnrch; its 
appearance, the services, the rector and congregation, and 
expressed her gratification that the dear old edifice was 
likely to be restored to its ancient and sacred uses. With 
much delicate tact in her enquiries she evinced scarcely 
less interest in the Swedish Embassy in London, to which 
her visitor was soon to be attached. Time was, she de- 
clared with fond earnestness of voice, “ when Sweden’s 
attitude in international questions as interpreted at the 
London Court had much to do with the policy and peace 
of Europe;” and she added with an imperious quietude of 
mien, “It made every Northman lift his head to feel that 
the prowess of Swedish arms had given so little a kingdom 
so large a place in the councils of Europe.'’ 

“ But above all,” contiinied the old lady, “ did it fill my 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


183 

soul with reverent gratitude that under God it was the 
proud fortune of our noble Gustavus Adolphus, with his 
handful of Swedes, to have such valiant part in saving all 
northern Europe from the slavish clutch of'popery. Small 
field for diplomacy hath our Sweden now at the English 
court; yet is there room for good acquittal if you be well 
accredited and upborne from our court and kingdom at 
home.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

After early tea the Generalskan held speech with the 
young people on the front porch, whither Halvor had 
brought out her easy chair; but with the approach of 
dusk she complained of feeling its dampness, whereupon 
the young man, anticipating her intention to arise, begged 
to wheel her back to her room. Being then excused 
from further attendance he rejoined Ebba, and the young 
couple sat enjoying the exquisite beauty of the fading 
day. 

The long rough limbs of Druid Jarl were mellowing in 
the sun’s last beams, the silent fjord lay in reddened 
shimmer below, and all about the lengthening shadows 
were creeping weirdly among rocks and trees. Watchful 
Varg had gone his round of the premises, and, satisfied 
that no enemy lurked in the neighborhood, sprawled him- 
self on the grass in easeful content. The aspiring moon, 
in her third quarter, early disputed the sun’s persistent 
effulgence, and all things betokened the impending 
surrender of day to night. 

The young people with a common impulse strayed 
across the lawn. As if lured by the outstretched welcome 
of the ancestral oak they sought the stony footstool of 
old Druid Jarl and seated themselves on the rustic bench 
encircling his rugged trunk. For some moments they sat in 
silence as if content to hold communion through the con- 
juring interpreters of the time and place. 

“ In such a night,” began Halvor in a low voice, ” ’tis 
difficult, methinks, e’en to conceive of discord.” 


184 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Kbba assented more by a half murmur and confirmatory 
nod than spoken reply. 

“When the heavens and the earth are so broadly, 
beautifully peaceful how paltry and pitiful seem the 
bickerings of men. ’’ 

The same assenting emphasis of murmur and motion. 

‘ ‘ Dumb nature seems in such mood more akin to us and 
’tis then, perchance, that Mamsell Borjeson most seeketh 
communion with her. ’’ 

“Oh !“ exclaimed Ebba gaily, “ I love the old dame as 
well when she storms; she seems then e’en the more 
human. But see,” she continued, starting to her feet, 
“how the hidden moon doth rim that passing cloud. Now 
she comes forth, and look ye, how she now silvers our 
tiny lake. Shall we not seek the isle? ’tis e’en brighter 
there.” 

The young man slowly rose with a slightly disturbed air 
and followed his companion. The dog observed the 
movement from the porch and came to the brow of the 
slope with half disapproving action of nose and tail. The 
young couple descended the grassy bank and stepped intp 
the little boat moored to the shore. A few vigorous 
strokes of the oars swept them across to the islet, and the 
lulled waters after a few moments’ flashy disturbance, re- 
sumed their placid sheen. A touch of jealous alertness 
was beginning to show itself in Halvor’s manner. He 
meant to be wary of a certain whimsical perversity in his 
companion that had more than once balked him, and he 
felt himself goaded into a tendency to surly self-assertion. 
His experience with the girl had wounded, not fed his 
vanity, and he was by no means sure of his ground. But 
he could endure no further delay, and even a haunting 
premonition of disaster aided a growing and well-nigh 
morose desperaiton to know his fate. 

“ I soon leave Sweden.” He spoke with a voice of 
suppressed feeling as the two seated themselves upon a 
board fitted in the forked tree trunks. 

“ I so have heard. How soon, then?” 

“ Probably within a week; but I wait a summons which 
nia}^ sooner come.” 

Ebba did not speak and her companion chafed with such 
pent-up emotional vehemence as threatened to stifle mod- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 185 

erate speech. He hardly dared trust himself, but with 
enforced calmness he huskily whispered: 

“Is it nothing to Ebba Borjeson; careth she naught 
whether I go or stay ?’ ’ 

“ She is sorry.’’ 

“ Indeed ! and so is the polite multitude. ’Tis the set 
phrase of society. These be the parrot words which echo 
sound, not heart. Has’t, then, nothing more to say?’’ 

“ Is’t for me to speak ?’’ 

“ Paltering avaunt ! ’Tis for Ebba Borjeson and Halvor 
Mondahl to know each other. Ah, dearest one — oh, my 
soul’s life !’’ and as Halvor so burst forth with passionate 
fervor he seized Ebba’s hand in both his own. “ Oh, 
knowest not I love you — deeply, wholly love 3^ou?’’ 

There was no responding pressure from the girl’s hand 
which she gently sought to withdraw from his. 

“My God! after all this can I be mistaken ? Speak! 
Answereth not your heart to min-e ? Gives Ebba Borjeson 
naught, then, to my hungering soul?’’ 

“ She cannot give,’’ faltered Ebba, with downcast ej^es 
and voice of gentle sadness, “ what she doth not possess.” 

“How,’’ said Halvor with sickening alarm, “another 
possesses it ? You love, then — you've given your heart — ” 

“ Nay, my heart hath not the love which giveth it value 
for another.” 

“ What say you ?’’ asked Halvor, whose breathless sus- 
pense had a shade of relief with the lessening vision of 
his rival, “cannot love — cannot choose as 3"ou will? Who 
but Ebba Borjeson shall bestow what she controls?’’ 

‘ ‘ I control it not. The heart to which love comes of it- 
self wears indeed a crown of gold, but ’tis weighted 
with a burden as well. To me nor crown nor cross hath 
come. ’Tis not for me to choose, I can but walch and 
wait.” 

“ ’Tis a vain conceit: it but mocks true feeling and pal- 
ters with honest purpose. I know naught of these o’er- 
wrought fantasies,” and the young man strode back and 
forth in stressful disquietude. “I know only that I madly 
love Ebba Borjeson and would make her the honest wife 
of an honest man.” 

“ ’Tis the loyal vow of a loyal heart. I doubt it not.” 

‘ ‘ Which should win the loyal response of a loyal heart 


i86 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


if its loyalty be not self-snared — made purblind with the 
mind’s o’er conjurations.” 

“ By- the heart’s guidance I am led. Through that 
alone I know my way. For ’tis hidden from mere sight or 
judgment. To be known the way must be felt; and I 
await the feeling humbly, hopefully, but e’er with fear and 
trembling.” 

” Fear and trembling?” 

” Aye, when it comes it brings riches and imposes bur- 
dens unspeakable.” 

” Burdens and curses say rather only when true love is 
unreturned and one party bears all that two should 
share.” 

” None bear so heavy a burden as do those who cannot 
love. ’Tis good to bear burdens if strength be given uS, 
and love giveth the strength.” 

” Botheration and .stuff !” said Halvor with kindling pro- 
testation, “ and ’tis with such fine-spun talk that the press- 
ing hunger of a loving heart is to be appeased. You pre- 
tend that a strong man, forsooth, should be the happier 
for being thwarted in the dearest wish of his heart.” 

” I pretend that the unhappiest man is he who loves not 
at all, or loves his own pleasures. I maintain that the 
sting of love unrequited is as nothing to the dreary empti- 
ness of a heart in which love for another findeth no lodg- 
ment. There is no such thing as unavailing love; it avails 
something for some one at some time, and it availeth most 
to him who most truly giveth it; ’tis e’er more blessed to 
give than to receive.” 

” It is then for sore chastening, for heart-anguish and 
religious discipline that a man should love a woman, and 
not to make her his wife ? He must expect rebuke, not 
fair requital or mutual tealty ! Could madness further go ? 
But e’en could such means work to such end would there 
be sense or justice or shadow of human nature in it? 
When a man gives his whole heart to a woman, is’t to the 
end of honest love and its fruits or to some other? Is’t 
not ever an all-sufiicient end and justification unto itself?” 

‘ ‘ Whether as a means or an end to suffer for real 
love’s sake tends to all blessed purposes for all con- 
cerned.” 

‘ ‘ The net result whereof must needs be often to turn 
truest hearts from truest aspiration — to cripple them with 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


187 


cruel isolation — to embitter life with failure. Oh, is not 
this sheerest self-deception ? My God ! Knoweth not 
Ebba Borjeson that I worship the air she breathes — the 
earth she treads? Can such love err? Is’t matter for 
vaporing fancy ? Is it a little thing a man offers when he 
offers his whole heart, his life, his aims, his all?” 

” ’Tis so great a thing,” returned Ebba, deeply moved, 
‘‘that a true woman can ne’er return less. Cruelly the 
woman wrongs the man to whom she giveth her hand 
without her heart.” 

Halvor turned awa^^ and, burying his face in his hands, 
his vigorous frame shook with the strength of his emo- 
tions. Touched with her lover’s sufferings the young girl 
struggled in a self-conflict and more than once checked 
herself from a pitying impulse to essay some solace. 
Neither spoke for some moments: and the silence was 
broken only by the cry of a night-bird and Yarg’s answer- 
ing bark to the challenge of a distant house-dog. 

A few vagrant clouds, stirred by an awakening breeze, 
began to move across the sky. Rising from her seat Ebba 
said something about a return to the house. Her com- 
panion walked in silence by her side and again stepping 
into the boat they re-crossed from the islet to the main 
shore. As they ascended the sloping lawn Halvor with 
bowed head and faltering voice asked 

‘‘ Is this the end; can Ebba give me no hope 

” Would it be a real kindness if I could ? Ah, Halvor,” 
she continued with gentle sadness, ‘‘do try to think me 
not unkind. I could fain wish ’twere otherwise, and some- 
times my heart doth indeed turn to thee with yearning 
tenderness.” 

‘‘Oh, bless thee for so much. ’ Tis spoken from a true 
heart, ” — and there seemed an appealing tremor in the very 
earth and air as the young man intently gazed into the 
girl’s pitying eyes. ‘‘Oh, could I but hope that time 
would — ” 

‘‘ Nay, Halvor, the future is hidden, sometimes e’en by 
a veil of deepest gloom. I dare not lift it if I could, to 
peer beyond.” 

“This savors of fatalism,” exclaimed the other with 
renewed bitterness; ‘‘hard, grim, stolid, relentless fatal- 
ism; because it banishes hope and heeds neither feeling 
nor reason. You talk of human emotion as you would 


i88 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


speak of a child’s bauble or a shopman’s stock in trade. 
You lure a man to a precipice and jauntily leave him on 
the giddy brink. Oh, maddening delusion ! Was e’er 
woman’s loveliness more fatally gifted, more cruel ? Oh, 
heedless, heartless girl!” 

They stood where the parting paths led up to the house 
and to Druid Jarl. Halvor had uttered the last words 
with quivering vehemence, and as Ebba stepped into the 
homeward path her lover, drawing himself to his full 
height, intercepted her with an imperious gesture, point- 
ing to the old oak; at the same instant he bent into the 
face of the girl a gaze of such compelling intensity that 
she felt herself borne resistlessly up the other pathway. 
The ancestral oak, grown hoary in legendary mystery, 
seemed to stretch wider its welcoming limbs, and for 
some moments as the young couple again seated them- 
selves thereunder they were hushed with a sheltering 
sense of rude tenderness as if the leafy veteran would 
evoke triumph from their travail. 

” See to it,” faltered Halvor at length, ” be ver^^ sure 
you are not stifling the voice of your own heart; else 
’twere more cruel than to be heartless.” 

‘ ‘ Heartless ? Alas ! such am I if such it be to feel the 
heart’s void, to . crave its food, to yearn vainly for its 
peace.” 

An indescribable sadness marked her utterance and her 
voice was broken with low sobs which she vainly sought 
to suppress. 

“My God!” cried Halvor in a voice of bitter peni- 
tence, ” ’Tis I who am cruel and heartless. Who better 
knows than I how gently heroic is Ebba BorjCvSOn? How 
devoted is she to her convictions of duty — how true and 
valiant the noble soul which follows its dictates to the bit- 
ter end. Her heart’s honest verdict I must needs abide. 
But, O Ebba, this boding weight upon my spirit ! some- 
thing tells me that for once you are deluded. God knows 
how truly I love you. Can it be that such devotion on one 
side evokes nothing on the other ? Can it be that one who 
hath done so much for my life cannot complete it with 
the love that crowns all? O Ebba, for God’s sake once 
more hear me. You fill my world; you color my vision; 
for me you gladden life’s very gladness; you enhance the 
beauty and truth of existence. Will you leave such 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


189 


ripening fruit — will you turn from so much that is real to 
pursue a gilded phantom ? Can you weigh the happiness, 
the peace of both in scales so fateful? Oh, is not this my 
Ebba — and is not she blind; or am I ?” 

“And if ’tis I, it is because love’s immortal light for 
which I wait hath not touched my willing eyes. O Hal- 
vor, look !’’ and a strange light swept over her sad face, 
“ ah, the ominous sky, its cold vault how pitiless ! and 
see, see, behind that ghastly cloud the striving moon 
hideth her troubled face. Dear Halvor,’’ added Ebba in 
a voice of touching pathos, “ would I could give all thou 
askest. Richly thou*deservest the guerdon of true love. 
That is indeed God’s highest gift. It should rid life of its 
paltriness, e’en as it brimmeth its cup with a joy that is 
fadeless. Others have felt its awe and known its bliss. 
To such it is e’er the beacon unerring on life’s trackless 
deep, lighting the way to the fair haven of peace, 
but my bark, alas, is still on the wide lonely sea.’’ 

“ God grant it prove not a shoreless sea,” and Halvor, 
grasping Ebba’s hand in both his own, pressed it convul- 
sively to his lips as he said in a choking voice: 

“ Farewell ! and may God forever bless thee.’’ 

With a suddeu bound the young man disappeared amid 
the moon’s shadows on the lawn. 

“ Halvor !’’ called a sad voice after him, but it was too 
late; he was gone. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Upon parting from Ebba, Halvor Mondahl was hardly 
comscious of his own movements, which seemed guided 
less by definite purpose than vague impulse. Finding his 
way to the stable he managed under the light of the moon 
and the wary scrutiny of Varg, to harness his horse and 
hasten .away toward Stockholm. The night had been 
calm and nearly cloudless, but a rising wind began now to 
moan through the forest and fill the sky with scudding 
clouds. The change for a moment diverted the attention 
of the lone traveller from the busy alternation of tempest 
and torpor of which he was the victim. 


190 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


It was long past midnight when he threw himself with- 
out undressing upon his bed. No sleep came to his re- 
lief. Strive as he might he was haunted with ceaseless 
visions of what so wholly engrossed him. Springing to 
his feet he paced his room and gazed at intervals out upon 
the Baltic now deserted by the moon and darkened by 
clouds. 

It was that stillest hour of the night which last precedes 
the break of day. With his thumping heart the mournful 
winds and heavy thud of the breakers on the beach 
chorused fit requiem to his lost cause. In all that he dis- 
tinctly saw or heard he felt bitter mockery. Yet there 
was something in the colorless void without that strangely 
attracted him. Leaving his room he wandered along the 
lonely shore. A pale, cold blank stretched away to a 
sightless horizon. Through the welcoming gloom he hur- 
ried aimlessly on until he met the first sign of dawn. 
Then he returned to his bed and once more tried to sleep; 
but it was in vain. Once, indeed, while in the dallying 
border land he lost the first outpost of consciousness, 
when he was startled by the fancied sound of Ebba’s voice 
calling his name. 

After that he gave up hope and prayed only for the 
speedy opening of the business day that he might 
find mental diversion in busy occupation. Then having 
ceased to court sleep the coquettish elf for a blissful 
moment lulled him in sweet oblivion. Awaking with a start 
he bounded to his feet. More than ever he longed for change, 
for action, for stirring adventure, for anything to wean 
him from himself. Yet every fair incentive, every aspiration, 
every lofty motive to action was inextricably interlinked 
with thoughts of Ebba Borjeson. Hard indeed seemed a 
fate which thus decreed that his strength should prove his 
weakness, and the very avenues by which he sought 
escape must lead back to his thraldom. Open and straight- 
forward b}^ nature the young man felt himself goaded by 
moral perplexities wholly new to him. With the North- 
man’s zest for battle he had never before been forced to a 
combat wherein the worthy impulses which had been his 
allies were arrayed as his foes — never fought where valor 
was in vain or repulse so tenderly cruel. The anomaly 
confused his moral sense; in a spasm of despair he was 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


191 

tempted to challenge the verity of eternal justice and im- 
pugn the goodness of God. 

But not long did he palter with doubt or duty. Sum- 
moning every healthful resource of stalwart manhood he 
struck away all distorting vision, and with a self-scorning 
outcry rushed from his room. Once more he hastened to 
the sea shore; he caught the fresh breeze from the Baltic; 
his feverish blood grew calmer. The promised dawn was 
warming to ruddier glow. Through the clearing mists he 
discerned the masts of an anchored vessel; it wore a 
familiar look; he recognized it as one . of a shipping line 
sailing to the port of Tondon. 

His heart bounded with a fresh purpose. Upon that 
ship he would at once take passage for the great city 
wherein he was soon to sojourn. In its vast throngs he 
would lose his vexing identity. It was a return of kindl}' 
fortune. Luckily he had already made such preparations 
for departure that little remained but to take leave of his 
friends. And this ceremony he felt must be restricted to 
a very few of the large number embraced in that category. 
This done, and all requisite matters arranged with 
his uncle, H^ns Mattson, Halvor gladly obeyed a 
summons to be on board by early evening. The vessel 
was to sail with the first change of wind. 

At early dawn of the next day anchor was weighed and 
the ship picked her slow way among clustering isles into 
the offing. Catching a favorable wind from the open Bal- 
tic, the hoisting canvas filled, and soon the city in its 
nestling sweep of isles and headlands was wholly lost to 
view. Modern Stockholm in her pride lay behind; 
ancient Wisby in her ruins lay before. Yet to the self- 
exile the latter was the newer, having the zest of novelty. 

Welcome to him, thrice welcome now all freshening 
change, new or old. Already he had felt a first brief 
respite from his strained consciousnevss, and bright hope 
whispered of further release, to be happily enhanced by a 
tested selfhood. Pacing the quarter deck Halvor alter- 
nately gazed at the forest-crowned shores fading behind 
him and at the brightening sea ever luring before. He 
was being borne from his native land with the odder feel- 
ing of being himself divided — of exchanging the known 
for the unknown. Behind him were the scenes and the 
struggles of his young manhood: before him lay the 


192 


Ebb a Bor/eson. 


great untried world. He felt it to be the crisis of his life 
which should broadly divide his past from his future. 
The first was gone; the present at least was his. And of 
the future ? 

Alas, at times he grew sick with the stress of his heart- 
yearnings, and memory seemed too much to bear. But 
he was brave and rich in youth and health. The world 
was wide: it was full of hidden reward for such as sought 
it in fair fight. And was he not of that stalwart race 
whose conception of life had ever been that of battle, 
who from the beginning rated courage as the chiefest of 
virtues and in the end looked to Valhalla as the heaven of 
fallen heroes? 

Bearing southward through the storied Baltic the ship 
at length rounded the southernmost point of Sweden, bore 
northward past the larboard headland and Castle of Kron- 
berg, past quiet Elsinore dosing in linked immortality 
with melancholy Hamlet, doubled low-lying Jutland, and, 
riding the storm}^ waters of the Cattegat and Skager Rack, 
swept out into the North Sea and bore away for the 
English coast. 

The favoring elements ensured a speedy and prosper- 
ous voyage. When land began to be faintly discerned 
over the starboard bow Halvor felt himself awakening to 
new anticipations. He was approaching a new field, big 
with opportunities for anew career. From early boyhood 
he had been fascinated with England’s stirring history, 
and with deepening interest in his maturer years he had 
made it a special study. Among these people — a kindred 
strain of that Teutonic race who had stubbornly carved 
civilization from barbarism, had he not the right to feel 
himself at home ? Had not the Scandinavian branch of 
the sturdy blue-eyed people contributed a large, if not al- 
ways noble, share toward the proud result? He felt that 
he was going among a people to whom he could not be 
wholly a stranger. New hope and a new sense of gladden- 
ing energy came to him as he yearned for the new 
activities that should occupy him. He would put aside 
the weakening past and reach out trustfully to the helpful 
future. 

As they proceeded soft land odors were borne upon the 
humid air, vessels increased in number and variety, and 
as they neared the mouth of the Thames the blue sea 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


193 


whitened with sails. Passing the vague division between 
sea and river, before night-fall they found themselves amid 
still multiplying craft which seemed to start up from the 
mists like phantom ships. A strong ebb tide with failing 
wind having impeded their course, a thickening fog and 
rapidly gathering darkness closed about them, and it was 
not until the next day that the change of tide brought the 
vessel to her anchorage in the great city. 

And this was the London which even at that early day 
was the heart of the commercial world. Grim and stolid 
with latent power its lusty immensity seemed the very ex- 
pression of Anglo-Saxon civilization, dark and heavy with 
the converged results of many-sided prosperity. Although 
the London of two centuries ago was but a twentieth of 
the city’s present magnitude; although the revocation of 
the edict of Nantes had not yet reinforced its population 
with fugitive Huguenots, the city was already a marvel of 
vigorous home growth. The great fire of 1666 had swept 
away most of its crude old wooden structures, and in the re- 
building the quaint simplicity of the primitive Gothic, yield- 
ing to the architectural drift of the Tudor period, had es- 
caped the tawdry pretensions of the southern renaissance. 
There was a massive propriety if not seductive elegance 
in its growth. 

Halvor gazed with increasing wonder at all his new sur- 
roundings. He spent the day looking at the wilderness of 
shipping and in wandering along the crowded wharves 
and through the busy streets. Welcome to him the 
diverting stir and bustle; welcome the spell of an elo- 
quent past and the promise of a gainful future; welcome 
the push and grasp and sturdy pluck of this wonder-work- 
ing people. Sauntering idly Halvor soon felt himself 
borne along by the gathering crowd. He passed through 
the tumultuous Strand, found his way into swarming 
Cheapside and Cornhill, wondered anew at the great busi- 
ness structures, admired the beautiful churches, the showy 
equipages and stately mansions of the nobility; saw some- 
thing of the lowest hovels in contrast with the grandest 
palaces; visited hallowed spots, associated with a proud 
literature and an eventful history; saw where England’s 
martyrs had suffered and her heroes were embalmed, and 
thus early guessed something of the power and weakness. 


13 


194 Ebb a Borjeson. 

the glory and shame of the great nation and city in which 
he was to sojourn. 

It was a proud day for a young student who was making 
his first entrance into the great world. Could there be a 
more auspicious opening into that world than through the 
portal of London, at once its vastest storehouse and the 
sum and crown of its sturdiest civilization ? The English 
city was rapidly becoming the modern Rome of a far 
broader world which was succumbing more to commerce 
than to war, — a world of conquering workers rather than 
of marauders, to which generous optimism might thereaf- 
ter look in helpful faith as more the abode of Right 
than of Might. 

All that the young visitor saw and felt seemed to bear 
upon his mission as a diplomat. As such he had given 
conscientious study as well to political and social questions 
as to international relations, and yielding to the busy stim- 
ulus, Halvor gave wider scope to thought. With all its 
unloveliness the great city seemed to him an epitome of 
the aims and achievements of that common Teutonic race 
which spurns servitude on the one hand and anarchy on 
the other; which confers rather than accepts authority, 
and whose reverence for law as their own handiwork had 
so grown that the people were already learning to right 
their wrongs more by reforming than by overthrowing 
governments. Rough without and tender within the kin- 
dred peoples had evervwhere a stern grasp of essentials, 
more lifted to the sturdy purposes, than lulled in the 
pleasures, of life. They meant to rebuild the outgrown 
structures of the past; and the good of the whole rather 
than of a portion being the new aim, a durable edifice was 
to be obtained less by striving for the glitter of the dome 
than the security of the foundation. Political and relig- 
ious struggles in the Teutonic family meant the racial 
freedom from all bondage. They were a contest for the 
dignity of man, and began a ceaseless plea for the toilers 
at the bottom, against the idlers at the top, of human so- 
ciety. The new structure was barely outlined; it was 3^et 
sadly crude. But it was begun, never to stop; and this 
London was the seat and centre of the scattered but kin- 
dred races who were its builders. And with gladdening 
novelty the new Babel was to lead to the union rather 
than the dispersion of men — a destiny in keeping with 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


195 


that Christianity of the living future which was to super- 
sede the dispensation of the dying past. 

Thus mused Halvor under the spell of the varied sights 
about him. He had become so absorbed with their 
novelty and the reflections they incited that he little 
heeded the lapse of time; and it was not until he grew 
weary of the double occupation of gazing and thinking 
that he /ound his buoyancy was less an abiding gain than 
a cajolement of the time. As the day wote away he ex- 
perienced a keen re-action of feeling. A blinding fog was 
hastening the gathering darkness, and as his eyes turned 
from the motley throngs growing dim in the streets his 
thoughts went back to his home in Sweden — to his boy- 
hood days, to his recent experiences, to the girl who held 
his heart in tender thraldom. He realized that he was in- 
deed a stranger in a strange land, alone in a peopled wil- 
derness more desolate than solitude. An indescribable 
longing seized him. He Avas oppressed with loneliness so 
utter, so stifling, that death seemed an easeful and inviting 
goal to him. 

In this mood he entered the first public house he could 
find. He had partaken of but little food at chance 
times during his wanderings. He was in sore need of 
wholesome sustenance; but with a strange feeling of self- 
sympathy he had a morbid craving to hug his sadness 
wholly to himself, and so with a heavy heart went supper- 
less to his bed. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

On the morning after the parting of Halvor Mondahl 
from Ebba Borjeson an untouched breakfast stood upon the 
table. It was long past the usual hour for the morning 
meal, yet Ebba did not make her usual appearance. The 
Generalskan had breakfasted in her bed and now sat in her 
easy chair casting impatient looks about the room and 
especially toward the kitchen door. She had more than 
once made a motion intimating her wish to arise from her 
seat, but as often desisted from an effort that brought pain 
and new proof of growing weakness. After calling aloud 


196 


Ebba Borjeson. 


without being able to make herself heard she at length 
rose with much exertion and crossed to the kitchen door. 

“ Helga !” she called again. But that immense 
domestic being elsewhere occupied, failed to respond: in 
her place Kama turned her heated face and rested 
her brown arms upon her hips with a look of respectful 
inquiry. 

‘ ‘ Hast seen aught of Mistress Ebba ?’ ’ 

A negative shake of the head came from the wash-tub. 

“ Knowest not whither she hath gone?” 

“She aint gone: she’s up, mum,” and the maid 
accompanied the words with a peculiar shake of her head 
and upward thrust of her thumb. 

“ Mean you,” queried the Generalskan with some 
alarm, “that my child hath not left her own chamber?” 

An emphatic grunt and dip of the head indicated an 
affirmative answer. The uniform health and activity of 
her grandchild rendered her absence from regular meals 
an almost unprecedented occurrence, and the old lady 
could not avoid a sudden feeling of apprehension. The 
breakfast viands were ordered from the table back to the 
fire and the strong-armed domestic was summoned to the 
assistance of her aged mistress in ascending to Ebba’s 
room. A gentle knock at the door brought no response, 
and the madame dismissing her assistant cautiously 
entered. She found Ebba tossing in restless slumber 
from which she partially awoke at- intervals with a start. 
The Generalskan noiselessly seated herself and watched 
the uneasy slumberer. Her dishevelled hair and pallid 
face, with deep lines about the e3"es, bore evidence of 
racking distress, while the disordered bed and half- 
discarded clothing indicated that their occupant had 
passed a sleepless night. 

The old lady, careful not to disturb the sufferer, long 
sat and anxiously watched the result of her broken rest. 
At length as her gaze happened to be averted for a 
moment she felt the pressure of a feverish hand, and at 
the same instant heard the half whispered words: 

“Grandma mine,” and glancing wildly about her Ebba 
eagerly continued, “where am I; is’t a dream?” add- 
ing soon in a calmer voice, “how came my grandma 
here ?” 

The Generalskan with soothing speech besought quiet 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


197 


and slowly imparted what she knew of the situation to the 
sufferer, but the latter with a rather puzzled com- 
prehension declared she was not ill at the same time that 
her flaming cheeks and quivering voice proclaimed a 
raging fever. She. was closely attended during the da}^ 
by the old lady, but when the latter intimated her purpose 
to have a couch arranged b}^ her bedside and her meals 
served her there, for continued attendance upon Ebba, the 
latter persisted that she was not sick, but urged the usuall}^ 
convenient plea of a distressing headache. 

Nor was it an idle plea in this case. For although she 
could not have told all she had undergone since Halvor 
left her the night before, that she had been alter- 
nately driven wild and half stupefied by spells of merciless 
headache, was the surest part of her experiences. To such 
headache, indeed, she had added an aching brain, an ach- 
ing heart and the strain of all the aching sensibilities of a 
keenly emotional nature. Had she yielded to the simple 
craving for tenderness and sympathy so natural with such 
utter prostration, she might have indefinitely kept her room 
with better reason than modern weaklings can usually give 
for their emotional invalidism. 

But she was not at all that style of damsel. In the 
intervals of her mental and bodily torments she busied 
herself with thoughts of the duties crowding upon the farm 
and household as well as with new projects for meeting 
the emergency. She thus found reason to bless, not 
bewail the urgent cares which helped to combat haunt- 
ing memories. The one pressing necessit}^ she knew was 
to meet the mortgage obligations in order to avoid the 
threatened penalties of default. Believing that if the 
interest could be promptly paid the principal would not 
be demanded, her restless mind applied itself to that 
object with new zeal and new promise of practical re- 
sults. 

Craving thus the wholesome activities of outdoor life 
and lured by the freedom of the fields, she turned her 
thoughts from feeding upon herself to the healing com- 
munion with kindly nature. So effectual was the gracious 
process which more ignores than indulges one’s ailments, 
that Ebba astonished the household by the next day leav- 
ing her room. Her first visit was to the fields to consult 
Olaf, whom she reached despite the hindering hilarity of 


198 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


the rejoicing Varg. But the dog’s delight was surpassed 
by the speechless amazement of Olaf, who had feared the 
long illness of his young mistrOvSS. 

“Now, what think ye ?’’ he queried, ^s soon as he found 
speech enough after venting his joy. 

Hbba shook her head as if declining to think at all. 

“ Why, I saw Swan Nelson yesterday,” and the speaker 
bent forward with a hand upon each knee to observe the 
effect of his words. 

“Well?” calmly replied Ebba, as if laboring to sur- 
vive the wonderful tidings. 

“ And what saith Swan Nelson then, quotha? What 
but this? Swan Nelson was passin’ our fjord-cove in his 
market barge on his home-trip from Stockholm. And 
Swan Nelson, mark ye, says that crops has took a turn 
and prices be goin’ higher everyday,” and with lusty 
guffaw the faithful fellow went into some saltatory intrica- 
cies with a terminal dance of joy. 

“And we’ve got all our new crop here,” he resumed, 
“ not a grain of it yet sold. And what’s more, with these 
bigger prices of grain and the fast fattenin’ of Brindle and 
Broadfoot, come Michaelmas ye’re like to get far more 
money than ye could expect a month ago.” 

Ebba joined in Olaf’s rejoicings, and hastening to the 
house, told the good news to grandma and the vener- 
able lady with touching reverence made grateful acknow- 
ledgment of the double blessing realized in her child’s 
recovery and the improved family prospects. 

The Generalskan had refrained from attempting to 
question her grandchild respecting the cause of her illness. 
Both women deeply felt the truth realized by strong 
characters that there are certain secrets of the soul’s inner 
recesses which are so sacred to individual experiences 
that they are profaned by even the well-meant approaches 
of one’s closest friends; and the old lady, zealous votary 
though she was of a religion whose professors often 
trench upon this delicate reservation, rejoiced at Ebba’s 
wholesome choice of objective diversion over the weaken- 
ing recourse to morbid introspection. 

But the anxious madame, while forbearing to question 
the sufferer, had felt a woman’s sympathy, possessed a 
woman’s nice discernment, and naturally came to a 
woman’s conclusion as to what had occurred between 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


199 


Halvor and Ebba. She had considerately awaited the 
latter’s further recovery of strength before acquainting 
her with the tidings obtained from the Countess B., that 
Halvor had suddenly Sailed for London in advance of his 
expected summons upon his official mission. Ebba 
received the intelligence very calmly, merely ex- 
pressing a renewed wish for more and speedy occupa- 
tion. 

September steadily wore on. The dividing line marking 
the equal length of day and night had been passed and the 
shortening days admonished Norse farmers to hasten pre- 
parations for winter. Already the crimsoned underbush 
skirting the woods, the fast yellowing birch, and the deep- 
ening maroon of the sober oaks exhibited the effect of re- 
peated frosts. And now the fast purpling meadows, the 
brown uplands waning to sombre monotony, and the bare 
grey spots daily widening in the pasture-fields gave warn- 
ing of the speedy coming of St. Michael’s day when horses 
must be brought from field to stable to ensure snug after- 
coats and when the nature of the coming winter is forecast 
by the weather of that day. 

Betimes nature’s signals are heeded on the General- 
skan’s homestead, and the driven herd ruefully leave 
their summer pasture-range. Followed by Ebba and Olaf 
the cows eagerly contend with each other for the linger- 
ing bunches of green herbage they pass. There is a sad- 
ness in their clutchings as if conscious of its being the 
season’s farewell to field-browsings. In merrier mood are 
the drivers. Exercise in the frosty air has brought color 
to the wan cheeks of the one and revived hope has 
cheered the hearts of both. 

Some days later Ebba was one morning awakened by 
the mellow horns ushering in the country Michaelmas. 
Going to her window she could already see the market 
boats in the fjord and peasants far over the hills all on 
their way to the fair at Sodertelje. There, from neigh- 
borhoods far and near, the people in their gay home cos- 
tumes were assembling as buyers and venders of country 
wares. It was a separation of the Norse season between 
outdoor and indoor farm life, and marked not alone the 
equal length of day and night, but the unequal results of 
thrifty and unthrifty husbandry. 

But Ebba as she gazed soon beheld a sight from which 


200 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


she turned with a pang. It was Olaf starting for the fair 
with Brindle and Broadfoot. They had been least loved 
among the farm cows, and she had not thought it would 
be so hard to part from them; but ‘she had helped rear 
them from their calfhood ; their dumb presence gave her 
some solace for the speaking friend who had gone; again 
she must choke down the over-breathing past — once more 
sever the dear associations which had made up her little 
home- world. 

From the sale of the two cows, with some smaller farm 
stock, together with the proceeds of the later sale of 
grain, sufficient means were at last obtained to pay the in- 
terest instalment. To that end a friend in Stockholm 
had been commissioned to call upon Herr Sternberg and 
notify him that the payment would be promptly made 
when due. An answer had come that Herr Sternberg, 
without making a definite reply, had acted in a strangely 
equivocal manner, while nothing had recentlv been seen 
or heard of Bengt Ericson, the principal, and his advocate 
believed he had left the country. 

Under these circumstances it was requisite to act with 
full information of the whole matter, and as some da3^s 
yet intervened before the maturity of the interest, Ebba 
as a precaution hurried off to Stockholm to look into the 
affair, and if necessar\^ take legal advice. Arriving be- 
times she presented herself to the Countess B. 

“ Again on business !” exclaimed that ga^^-spirited 
lady, “why, what a commercial Mamsell thou art be- 
come ! In sooth I do env\" thy talent for many callings — 
farmer, sailor, connoisseur — it matters little what, and as 
little, methinks, whether thou be well or ill, for I did 
e’en hear that thou wert sick. Now tell me all.’’ 

And the kind lady, warnil}^ kissing her visitor, pressed 
both Ebba’s hands as she led her to a double seat for a 
close tete-a-tete. The Countess plied her guest with con- 
siderate questions touching her illness, her grandmother’s 
health and other home matters, and then adroitly 
changed the talk, referring to Halvor’s sudden departure 
in a mixed vein of enquiry and playful asseveration. 

“ Yes,” she continued, with a sly pretense of answering 
a query from Ebba, “I did receive a letter from the young 
diplomat e’er he had yet been a fortnight in the English 
city.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


201 


Ebba could not avoid a bright look of enquiry in re- 
sponse to the words and glance of her friend. 

‘ But for more than a month now ne’er a word have I 
heard; nor more, methinks, hath been heard b}^ others. 
For, but yesterday,” continued the lady, closely scanning 
her guest’s face, ” I saw our beautiful friend Iduna and 
queried of her for tidings from our absent Halvor, but 
naught had e’en that intimate friend of the gentleman 
heard from him of late. I do wonder and e’en begin to 
grow anxious. Hast thou hea — ” 

The lady checked herself from asking so pointed a ques- 
tion, while Ebba, struggling with herself to avoid appear- 
ing to take undue interest in the subject, turned the con- 
versation by asking the information for which she specially 
called. 

“Sternberg?” queried the hostess. “ Herr Sternberg, 
the advocate? Yes? Then I -will direct your way to his 
office,” and she gave the needed information as soon as 
her guest persisted in leaving. Betaking herself with 
some misgivings to the place indicated by the Countess, 
Ebba was soon ushered into the presence of Herr Stern- 
berg. She found him immersed in papers, wearing a con- 
tracted brow and pre-occupied air. He at first evinced a 
disposition to prevaricate, but when Ebba tersely stated 
her fixed purpose and turned upon him the full force 
of her open, calm, fearless gaze the man’s face fell in very 
shame; and he was compelled into a confession wholly 
unlooked for, namely, that Bengt Ericson was not the 
owner of the mortgage on their old home at all, and had 
no claim whatever upon them. Having said thus much 
he seemed disposed, in response to his visitor’s surprised 
look and possibly as some atonement for his impertinent 
over-zeal before, to volunteer further information. 

“Herr Ericson,” he continued, “never did own the 
mortgage.” 

‘ ‘ How ? and had you then the baseness to — ’ ’ 

“ Nay, I did then act in good faith as employed coun- 
sel when I personally notified you at your home; acted 
only in strict obedience to instructions from my client, 
Bengt Ericson; for he had long been striving to get pos- 
session of the mortgage and e’en supposed he had suc- 
ceeded in his purpose; but he was thwarted at the last 
moment, methinks, by one Herr Mondahl ?’ ’ 


202 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ By whom?” queried Ebba, in utter astonishment. 

” By young Halvor Mondahl; the same, methinks, who 
hath since joined the Swedish Embassy in London. He 
did perchance for himself or jointly with his uncle, Herr 
Mattson, acquire the mortgage, as I have heard and 
verily believe. But I know not with certainty concerning 
a matter whereof I thus affirm, but do refer you for all 
particulars of the same to Hans Mattson, whom ye may 
find at this place,” and he handed her a direction he 
hastily wrote as he spoke. 

Expressing her thanks to Herr Sternberg, Ebba directed 
her steps to a large building like a warehouse in the 
business Stad of the city and was shown into a neat wait- 
ing room attached to a certain mercantile or commission 
establishment. After a moment’s delay there stepped into 
her presence a middle-aged man of square muscular phy- 
sique with a broad, open face, wearing a marked expres- 
sion of mingled resolution and kindliness. Bowing re- 
spectfully he rubbed his hands with a certain cheery 
promptitude of manner and requested to know of what 
service he could be to the lady. 

Ebba announced her errand, when Herr Mattson’s voice 
and mannar softened at once into greater suavity, while 
his face relaxed from its massive fixedness, as if a new 
light had suddenly burst upon him. With fresh and grow- 
ing interest he stole more observant glances into the face 
of his visitor as he confirmed the statement of Herr Stern- 
berg. He admitted that the mortgage sought for was in 
his possession, but denied that he was the legal or proper 
owner of it or had authority to accept payment of either 
principal or interest. 

” Yes,” he continued, with an air of exultant fondness, 

‘ ‘ my boy Hal did appeal to me for money to make up a 
sum for a cherished project of which he declined telling 
me. I asked no questions but he got the funds, as the 
scamp always gets what he wants of his foolish old uncle. 
I fear I am something overfond of the rogue, and ought to 
frown upon his secret schemes; but when he came and 
told me just before he went off to London what he did 
with the money and how he had forestalled and outwitted 
that old Shylock Ericson in obtaining the mortgage, this 
old uncle’s heart so swelled with proud joy that I could 
only find relief by hugging the schemer till he ached in 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


203 


sympathy. No doubt Bengt thought he had secured the 
prize when he sent Herr Sternberg to threaten you; but 
he was too blimhed by his vengeful greed and too eager to 
vent his passionate spite to make sure of his triumph. 
The viperous old reprobate ! Well, well, I am more than 
ever glad, now, that Hal thwarted his rascality.” 

“But, dear sir, craving your pardon, interest is to be 
paid upon this mortgage whoever may hold it?” 

“Nay, I was positively instructed to make no demand 
for payment of the mortgage nor for the interest accruing 
thereon.” 

“Did you, then,” persisted Ebba, “receive no con- 
trary instructions from Herr Mondahl after he reached 
London ?” 

“ None,” replied the other, who, lowering his voice in 
mock seriousness, continued, “and I see not how I can 
do so grave a thing as receive money for another without 
express instructions, or dare to accept interest on a par- 
ticular mortgage without the authority of its owner.” 

♦“ But perchance you have not heard — ” 

“ Heard ! bless ye, yes, yes,” replied Herr Mattson, 
who with a quizzical pretense of anticipating Ebba’s ques- 
tion while further ignoring her financial query, continued, 
“ Oh yes, I have twice heard from Halvor. He wrote me 
on his first arrival in London, describing his voyage 
thither and telling about the forest of shipping in the 
Thames and the might and hubbub of the vast city with 
its crowded thoroughfares, its massive edifices, its gay 
equipages, its beautiful women and — ” 

“Well, sir?” queried Ebba, intently listening as the 
other abruptly ceased, with an inquiring pause. 

“The other letter was — let me see — ah, yes, much 
about a vast body of lands in the New World granted by 
the English King Charles to one William Penn, a great 
leader of the queer sect of Quakers, who had published 
his concessions and invitation to all persons wishing to be- 
come freeholders and settle in his domain; and people of 
all classes and sects beside Quakers were taking advan- 
tage of the the liberality offered in business and religion 
to buy land, and many had sailed and more intended going 
to the new domain, insomuch that it was become the talk 
of the city.” 


204 


Ebb a Boj'jeson. 


“ All of which,” replied the lady, “is surely of great 
interest, but touching this interest payment you say 
naught.’’ 

“Wonder of wonders! Here’s a fancied debtor in 
keen pursuit of a non-claiming creditor; would that my 
pursued debtors were half so zealous to pay oft-demanded 
debts. But as I was saying, Halvor — ah, I could not have 
believed I would miss the boy so much. I wonder why he 
hurried off so suddenly. But the young zealot was so 
bent upon the mission he — ” 

“ He forbade your demanding payment,” interposed 
Ebba, “ but unless he expressly prohibited 3^our receiving 
it, methinks 3^ou are justified in accepting this interest.” 

“ Very shrewdly put, my good Mam’sell — worthy 
verily of any practicing barrister, na}^ of a barrister who 
findeth mone}^ to be a burden — more wonder yet.” 

And so to relieve the young lady of such burden Herr 
Mattson consented to receive the money on deposit as a 
mere matter of accommodation to the depositor. 

Ebba persisted in ‘declining the pressing hospitality of 
this agreeable man, who regretted that his sweet- willed 
wife and plump-faced children were not on the spot to 
help raid away her objections and bear her homeward in 
old viking triumph. 

Rising to take her leave the visitor still lingered and 
hesitated as if with the mingled wish and dread to speak 
further, “ Is Hal — is Herr Mondahl — doth he seem — ” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Herr Mattson, assuming to divine her 
thoughts, “Halvor, methinks, is well and hap — that is, 
when I last saw him he seemed madly glad to leave us all, 
and when he last wrote he was in good bodil}^ health; but 
that was a long, long time ago — so long that I — ” and a 
shade passed over his cheery face, “ I e’en begin to grow 
anxious about the boy.” 

With a grateful adieu Ebba departed, deeply burdened 
with thoughts of a young man from whom she had re- 
ceived a parting favor and upon whom she had bestowed 
— what ? Alas, maii}^ times in after years was the poor 
girl destined to grapple sorely for the true answer to that 
self-query. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


205 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Halvor Mondahl had been two months in Eondon. And 
for some six weeks he had been in the discharge of his 
duties at the Swedish Embassy. Under the sore depres- 
sion of his first night in the strange city he had felt that 
until he should be occupied with such duties he must make 
every possible effort against a repetition of his sufferings 
by active and determined pre-occupation of his mind. 
Busily seeking the means to that end he bethought him of 
a cherished school acquaintance and correspondent of 
later days, who had lived some years in London, and set 
forth in the morning in eager pursuit of him, with some- 
what mixed motives, among which was a yearning to 
look upon a human face he had seen before and to feel 
once more the grasp of a Swedish hand. He was fortun- 
ate both in the speedy discovery of this acquaintance and 
in the society of one of his character and attainments. 
For he was an educated man of comparative leisure, who 
proved an untiring student and enthusiast in all matters of 
legendary and historic interest. 

With this friend Halvor had been kept busy in hunting 
up curious reminiscences and visiting places of note, not 
only in London and vicinity but in the most accessible of 
the surrounding country. Under this wholesome diver- 
sion he had been daily regaining his olden buoyancy of 
spirits. And he was now fast learning the ways of the 
English people as he acquired greater proficiency in their 
language. With the widening study of her history he felt 
anew the scope and spell of England’s wondrous past, but 
in the hopeful vigor of his young manhood he sympa- 
thized more with her future. Every day he found new 
cause to rejoice over the increasing absorption of his 
mind, and thankfully he welcomed the healthy activities 
that were weaning him from morbid introspection. 

While in this cheery condition of labor and hope Hal- 
vor was one afternoon detained with his duties beyond 
his ordinary office hours. It had been a dark cloudy day, 


2o6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


and soon after high noon there began to settle upon Lon- 
don an unusually heavy fog, which rapidly thickened 
with the waning of the brief autumnal afternoon. Dank, 
murky and reeking, the pitiless darkness palled all objects 
in a rayless density of gloom. Without, a soggy, gray 
blank deepened to a pitchy blackness, through which 
colliding vehicles and jostling pedestrians sought to grope 
their wa3^ while within there was no nook, crevice or 
cranny into which the peering darkness did not thrust it- 
self. Soon Halvor found too little daylight to continue 
his writing, and as he felt the chilly air creep about him, 
he rose to light up his office and stir the fire into more 
cheerful glow. 

Resuming his seat he made haste to complete his day’s 
labors, when he thought he heard a confused sound of 
whispering voices outside the window near which he wrote. 
He stopped’ to listen. The whispering ceased; but when 
he resumed his writing he felt quite sure he again heard 
smothered voices in snatches of war}^ talk, and upon 
suddenly casting a glance at the window he distinctly 
saw a dusky visage swiftly drop below the sill, which 
movement was followed by a shuffling sound of hasty 
footsteps. Halvor arose, opened the door and asked who 
was there. There was no answer and he returned to his 
desk without giving the matter further notice. 

An hour later he finished his work, extinguished the 
lights and stepped into the street to walk to his lodging 
rooms. It was not yet a late hour of the afternoon, but 
the smothering fog was hastening the close of the brief 
November day. Feeble and ghastly the dim lamps from 
corner posts and shop windows struggled with the engulf- 
ing darkness. Vaporous condensations gave forth every- 
where dull sounds of dripping, garments lost their rustling 
crispness, and street walkers felt their footsteps dogged 
and hampered b}^ the clinging but invisible spectre, which 
held the dungeoned city as by a dread and nameless 
spell. 

Halvor had gone but a short distance before he had the 
consciousness of being followed. Footsteps behind him 
kept even pace with his own movements. He quickened 
his steps: they kept the same relative distance: he 
stopped and they came no nearer. His course took him 
out of the crowded avenue and upon suddenly' turning 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


207 


into a less frequented by-street he nearly ran against a 
muffled figure lurking there as if for prey. An instant’s 
glimpse revealed a ghostly countenance which had a 
startling familiarity even in the dim light of the moment. 
With a wily and exultant squint the wrinkled visage dis- 
closed itself to his hasty glance and Halvor knew he was 
not mistaken — that sinister face peering through the deep 
fog, that stealthy glance and scowling brow could belong 
only to Bengt Ericson ! 

The moment Halvor caught sight of this crouching way- 
layer in front the footsteps drew nearer from behind. He 
heard a peculiar whistle as of a signal and at the same in- 
stant he received a heavy blow from a blunt instrument 
which knocked off his hat and sent him reeling toward 
some door steps near at hand. Over these he staggered 
with a momentary feeling of dizzy sickness; but by a 
powerful effort he managed to recover himself enough to 
assume a posture of defence, and just as a masked assail- 
ant made a grasp for his throat he dealt his face a quick 
violent blow with his fist, which shattered the mask and 
revealed a dull grimy countenance beneath. Before he 
could take much note of this baffled assailant Halvor 
caught a glimpse of a creeping figure in his rear, also in a 
masked face, while a third attempted to seize his arms 
from behind. The gathering crisis made him think and 
act with quickened force. By a sudden fierce kick in the 
abdomen he prostrated his last assailant. The creeping 
figure rose with a curse and rushed to the rescue, aiming 
a blow at his head. This Halvor luckily dodged, and 
uttering a loud cry for help, closed in a desperate struggle 
with his assailants. These now attacked him simultane- 
ously from all sides and he must have been speedily over- 
powered but for the timely and distinct sounds of nearing 
footsteps. They came in quick and concerted movement 
accompanied by a loud clear voice like that of command. 
At this the outlaws, pausing an instant to listen, took 
alarni and fled away with muttered oaths into the dark- 
ness. A squad of police made their appearance, one of 
whom remained with Halvor while the others, asking di- 
rections from him, followed on in pursuit of the ruffians. 

Halvor found a mass of clotted blood on his cheek and 
clothing which came from a bruised ear and a cut on the 
side of his head, but the blow had missed its vital aim 


2o8 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


and he was luckily not seriously hurt. On the way to his 
lodgings Halvor recounted the particulars of the assault 
to the accompanying policeman, who evinced the usual 
degree of municipal and protective sagacity by those pro- 
found winks and ominous head-shakings which to this day 
are ordinarily more puzzling than comforting to the vic- 
timized listener. 

After a healing application and a hearty supper the 
assaulted young diplomat felt too little injured and 
was too little impressed with his adventure to prevent 
his sinking into a profound slumber. In the morn- 
ing he felt so soundly refreshed that except for some 
soreness where he had been wounded the occurrence 
would have seemed more a dream than a reality. As it 
was, in the glow of his returning vigor he was disposed to 
dismiss the matter from his thoughts with the passing 
thought that it was simply an incident which aided pre- 
sent diversion and might add variety to the future retro- 
spection of a rather uneventful life. 

But a more serious view of the event was taken by a 
coterie of men gathered that morning in a dingy apart- 
ment of a rickety building in the dreariest East end of 
London. This building did not square with anything in 
particular; it did not face ,upon any street or look 
out upon any lane or avenue; it was not reared upon 
a definable foundation; it simply rested uneasily on 
some leaning posts thrust up from the muddy shore of the 
Thames, where a flood had to all appearance accidentally 
lodged the structure; for its twisted corners and crooked 
windows leered in all directions, or in none, like the 
dubious vision of squint-eyed humanity. It was sur- 
rounded by a conglomeration of objects and appliances 
pertaining to the calling of fishermen and sailors. Fish- 
ing tackle and nets and the various handiwork of boat 
builders, mast, sail, block and oar makers, with masses of 
blackened cordage and riggers’ second-hand materials, 
mingled with broken and cast-off articles and general de- 
bris connected with water-side pursuits, combined to give 
a rusty and weather-worn appearance to the forlorn neigh- 
borhood. 

The four men assembled in this choice retreat were not 
at their ease. They had apparently passed the night in 
this smoky and bedless room, and in the dim morning 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


209 


light presented a battered, swarthy and unkempt appear- 
ance. They cast their eyes stealthily about as if momen- 
tarily expecting an addition to their party, while at brief 
intervals one after another of the men crept to a dingy 
angle of the apartment where through a narrow casement 
and shrouding dust and cobwebs there was a dim outlook 
over the river. Toward the river, indeed, if toward any- 
thing, the odd building had some sort of inclination and 
general reference. Otherwise, like most of its nearest 
neighbors, it leaned from everything and especially from 
a perpendicular attitude with a surly consciousness of utter 
non-conformity, defying, with equal angularity, the form- 
ulas of men and the storms of nature. With an angular 
projection over the river shore the edifice thus refused to 
be parallel or at right angles with any surrounding fixtures 
near or remote, as if in dogged scorn of whatever was 
deemed fitting or well-ordered. 

Nor was the approach to it less perverse in its obliqui- 
ties. Only the most knowing of the neighbors shared 
with more distant schemers in the secret of its devious 
windings. But once through these, the curious explorer 
felt himself repaid for his perils by all that he saw, heard 
and smelled. For he there encountered in busy seclusion 
an unguessed muddle of nature’s and man’s creation — all 
the wonders of limping cat and dog life in alien company 
with emboldened rats, misshapen ducks and half-tailed 
roosters in wheeZ3"-voiced dominion over dilapidated hens; 
looking altogether, creatures and crazy environment, as if 
they had alike emerged from a night’s revel, while the 
enveloping atmosphere was a nameless compound of musty 
loft and noisome hole quickened by aggressive odors and 
reeking foulness offending a further sense by the suggested 
nausea from the supposed taste of spiders and the ascer- 
tained scent and suffering from more insinuating bed- 
pests. 

The place was altogether a fit resort for the plottings of 
the men who SQught its hideous seclusion. One of the 
gang continued to cast uneasy glances at the door, re- 
peatedly going to peer warily into its misty approaches 
beyond, while his companions took turns in moodily look- 
ing out over the river where the anchored shipping began 
to show itself through the foggy air of breaking day. The 
gang seemed actuated by mixed motives or by the same 

14 


210 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


motives in mixed degrees. But whatever the motive or 
degree it was growing to marked uneasiness; for now two 
of the party at shortening intervals alternately stole to 
apply an ear to the key-hole and to peer cautiously into 
the darkened passage leading to their retreat, a third 
paced the floor with quickened steps and surlier mien, 
while the fourth lay prostrate uttering mixed groans and 
curses as the result of the kick received from their 
intended victim in the rencontre of the previous evening. 

Which one o’ them theere wessels did yer say, Tom?” 
enquired the man peering out on the river. 

” The lower merchantman,” was the response. 

‘ ‘ The lower merchantman ! Why that wessel has loosed 
her moorin’ and anchored out in the river. 

” In course she has. Now, you Mike Blinkers, 
did’nt I tell yer more nor onct that she was all unloadened 
and loadened up agin ready to sail?” 

“Ready to sail where to?” 

“ That’s none o’ your business,” replied Tom Putchen, 

‘ ‘ but what is your business and my business aud the busi- 
ness o’ these here pals and comrogues is to know that that 
theere Swede chap is, surer nor preachin’ , to be nabbed 
and hand-cuffed and blind-folded and put aboard o’ that 
theere wery ship afore he’s a day older, hark ye.” 

“ Easier said than done, to my thinkin’,” said Bill Mug- 
low from his prostrate station on the floor. 

“ Aye; but done it must be, mark ye; for haint our 
bowin’ and bejewelled tough ’un — haint him as hires us 
said o’er and o’er a many enough times, no game no fame 
— ketch him to stay or git no pay; else as how we’ll but 
have our pains for our gains.” 

“ Well, and whose fault is it that the young Swede aint 
a’ready caged and cabined for airly shippin’? For who 
but thi^ heere frownin’ faded fop of a old Frenchy 
would ’lit a’ knowed better than to show his phiz without * 
his mask. His wrinkled mug e’en without a tug made 
the Swede kick fiercer’ n a stud, as I’ll swear withal, who 
was knocked in the mud.” 

“ Bah ! and bother to your rhyme,” replied Sam Back- 
stare, “but it ’ud be like the hard ’un after keepin’ us 
here all night without bed or breakfast to blow on us all 
and have us tuk up.” 

“And hanged up as well,” was the cheerful suggestion 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


21 I 


of the floored individual, who as the disabled comrade, 
aspired to some rhythmic humor in his philosophy. 

“Blubber and stuff!” resumed Tom Putchen, “would 
ye squeal like pigs o’er spilled milk ? That there wessel 
clears on the wery fust tide perwiden the fog lifts; and 
what we’ve got to do is to nab and gag and cage the 
young Swede and git our pay as agreed, like men.” 

“Like fools, methinks,” said the prostrate Bill, “for 
what pledge has any on us that when we’ve done it the 
rich cove’il — ” 

“Hist!” suddenly cried -Mike Blinkers, the latest 
watcher at the door, “ he comes !” 

Instantly the men, with crouching attitudes, were 
hushed in attentive but sullen silence as the long expected 
Bengt Ericson entered the room. 

“ Meesirawble pimps!” was the cheerful greeting of 
their patronizing visitor: “Ah! zuch scharming gens 
d’armes — such gunning and valiant cumrrads, eh; vat 3^e 
call zuch vork — zuch, ah, maladroitness, eh? Sacre ! 
Now hear and the party drew together around a 

rude table where in low husky voices they began discuss- 
ing new plans for the capture of their intended victim. 

“Stay,” exclaimed Bengt abruptly after a moment’s 
consultation, “ ye no cumprahon — your dull wits shall be 
sharpened !” and tipping a wink and nod with a signifi- 
cant signal to Mike Blinkers, that watchful comrade 
darted out through the murky surroundiugs of their 
retreat, and in an incredibly short time returned with a 
jug of Scotch whiskey. The gang exchanged swift long- 
ing glances and each in turn eagerly seized the jug and 
turning it over his backward thrown head drank deeply of 
the fiery contents. Then drawing closer together they 
grew more vociferous in their conferences, pounding the 
table at intervals to give louder emphasis to their half- 
muttered^ oaths. 

“ No mischance this time, or my name is not Tom Put- 
chen. Dead or alive said ye, captain?” 

“ Zartain ! Alive if posseeble, but dead if it must be. 
A capture at all events.” 

“ Bravo ! Hear ye, pals; mind your eyes and it’s done.” 

“ And mind ye all, zis day ! Vile ze fog lasts and before 
ze alarem begin; and rremembare he no more valk; he 
zhall now rride, eh ? And zo ze more keep ye ze vara, 


212 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


vara watch zo close. Brrave heart and cool head; mum 
ze vord ! Cumprahond, eh?” 

A confused murmur of plottings, imprecations and mu- 
tual assurances continued for a time, when the party one 
by one left the retreat, stole through the dingy egress and 
disappeared amid the fast swelling throngs of the awaken- 
ing streets. 

Meanwhile, Halvor Mondahl, exulting in his lucky es- 
cape, ate a hearty breakfast and walked jauntily forth to 
his official post. In his regained strength and spirits he 
was in a mood to think well -of all the world; and as if to 
make light of a matter from which he had little suspicion 
of further trouble he had spoken to no one of the assault 
except the questioning policeman. The sufferer found, 
however, that he was not to be so easily rid of the thing. 
For as the day wore on newly discovered sprains and 
bruises began to hamper his freedom of motion; and when, 
an hour past noon, he left his office to partake of luncheon 
he found he could not walk without considerable pain and 
stiffness. Nor did he suspect the keen eyes that kept 
watch of his movements from more than one hiding place. 
The day continued foggy, but toward evening there began 
to be signs of a change. A light breeze sprang up and the 
motionless gray fog began to yield its stagnant reign to a 
hovering black cloud which momentarily thickened with 
threatening rain. 

Halvor hastily closed his office and limped into the 
street to return to his lodgings. He felt lame and weary, 
Calling a post-chaise he entered the vehicle, sat back 
alone and resigned himself to rest and thought. He was 
was driven rapidly through two busy thoroughfares and 
turned at length into a crooked and lonely street. With 
the slower pace here necessitated he had been driven but 
a short distance when in a darkened locality there was a 
violent jar and sudden stoppage of the chaise; its occu- 
pant was thrust forward on his face by the shock; he heard 
a quick shout with muffled oaths and at the same instant he 
was knocked senseless by a fearful blow in the temple. 
Four masked men had sprung simultaneously from sur- 
rounding recesses, one of whom had seized the horses’ 
heads, a second had choked and disabled the driver, the 
third had locked the wheels by thrusting a beam between 
the spokes, while the fourth dealt the stroke that deprived 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


213 


their victim of all power of resistance. A fifth figure 
deeply muffled stood apart iu bent form and motioned si- 
lent orders to the assailants. Two of these mounted and 
took position on each side of the driver, upon whom they 
kept watch and hold, while the other two entered the chaise, 
gagged their unconscious prisoner and placed his helpless 
limbs in irons. 

They were driven rapidly through dark and winding 
streets to a secluded spot on the river shore. The mer- 
chantman had already weighed anchor and was slowly 
dropping down with the tide. The manacled prisoner was 
placed in a waiting yawl and rowed swiftly out to the moving 
craft, and when, a few moments later, Halvor recovered 
consciousness, h.- found himself in a ship’s hold amid a 
confused mass of merchandise and the sounds and 
smells peculiar to a vessel bound upon a long voyage. 

The gag had been removed from his mouth, but when 
he presently made wondering enquiries he was sternly 
bade to keep silent. Soon, however, a rather softened 
voice added a promise that upon good behavior the 
prisoner would be made as comfortable as could be ex- 
pected. Halvor felt sorely exhausted and as he sank 
with half stupefied senses and a weight of dull pain he 
faintly called for a cup of water. 'This was brought him; 
his manacles were removed, his wounds bandaged, and a 
rude bed having been improvised for his use he sank into 
a long, heavy slumber. 

He was kept below six days; on the seventh the cap- 
tive was brought on deck. Gazing about him in wonder 
he beheld a watery expanse stretching to an enclosing 
sky in all directions. He was alone and friendless in mid- 
ocean, bound whither? He ventured to make query of 
one after another of those about him. But beyond a nega- 
tive motion of the head his hearers answered with mock- 
ing glances and shouts of derisive laughter. And .so for 
Halvor Mondahl, lately so buoyant with returning hope, 
night closed upon a world of lonely waters and pitiless 
men. 


214 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

As already stated frequent letters had been received 
from Halvor Mondahl upon his first arrival in London. 
For some weeks, indeed, ever}^ arriving vessel had 
brought one or more letters to some of his friends at 
home. Suddenly they all ceased coming Enquiries 
exchanged among friends elicited the same response 
from all; not one had heard a word from him for months. 
Week after week elapsed, vessel after vessel arrived, and 
still not a word or line came from the absent one to any 
known relative or friend. 

Among these Halvor’s uncle made more extended 
enquiries with the same fruitless result. Then he wrote 
to the Swedish Embassy in London. Hearing nothing, 
after duly awaiting a reply, he wrote again. Still obtain- 
ing no answer, after further delay, Herr Mattson was about 
to renew his enquiries when he received a letter from the 
Ambassador himself, announcing Halvor’s sudden dis- 
appearance and enquiring as to his presence in Stockholm; 
for he added the hope that his abrupt departure from his 
post might be accounted for by some unforeseen necessity 
calling him homeward. 

Herr Mattson hastened in alarm to London. He 
instituted inquiries and diligently searched in all quarters 
affording any chance for information. He hunted up his 
nephew’s old school-mate who had long resided in Lon- 
don. He found and closely questioned the police squad 
which had come to Halvor’s rescue from the first assault. 
He queried of those who had served his meals and kept 
his lodgings. It was in vain. Every chance of discovery 
proved futile. The uncle had been heartily aided by 
Halvor’s companion and other friends; but their united 
efforts had not solved the mystery. Nothing could be 
gleaned, not the slightest clew or hint touching the fate of 
the missing one could be obtained. 

After a fortnight of persistent searching Herr Mattson 
returned with a heavy heart to his home. Of course there 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


215 


was a stir in the social circle in which Halvor had moved. 
There had already been a disturbing ripple on the com- 
posed face of Stockholm society, and now the return of the 
uncle from his fruitless errand served to heave and widen 
the general interest in the melancholy occurrence. 

It will not be pretended that Ebba Borjeson’ s thoughts 
had not sometimes turned regretfully to her absent friend. 
The consciousness of the peculiar relations she had held 
with Halvor caused a somewhat morbid shrinking from 
the notice of her friends, and she could not betray the in- 
terest she felt in his welfare without some embarrassment. 
But while from this feeling she had many times checked 
an impulse to enquire of mutual friends 'concerning him, 
it would be difficult to define the mingling of wonder and 
dread with the other emotions with which she now re- 
ceived the news of his mysterious disappearance. Could 
it be possible that mingled with her deep sorrow 
over the event she felt a strange something that was not 
wholly sorrow, that was even akin to pleasure ? Did she 
clutch at a shadowy hope that through some inscrutable 
turn of kindly fate a mi.sfortune to Halvor might be 
turned to fortune for him — might in .some way bring him 
within the pale of her sympathy and aid ? She did not 
know. But what she did know was that she was not 
wholly grieved at the bad news; and this shocked and 
grieved her more than even this news so full of probable 
calamity for her lost friend. 

Nor was this Rbba’s only strange experience. The 
occurrence added to conditions which were making life 
more serious to her, imparting more depth and mystery to 
it. If less bright and joyous was it not hereafter to be 
marked by d wider scope and deeper meaning? Was her 
life, then, to be more in harmony with nature, whose 
bright face had faded and whose aspect had grown stern 
and hard? And was not this after all true growth; simply 
progress toward that resurrection through whose sublime 
mystery the end is the beginning, even as winter is lost 
in spring and death is swallowed up in life ? 

Upon such solemn problems did this young girl muse as 
her fresh strength waxed to trial, and hope felt the sober- 
ing touch of time and care. And so was her young faith 
buttre-ssed when as the year waned nature’s sad face was 
one morning veiled in soft white snow. Did it not emblem 


2i6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


the purity and peace of the new life ? What could seem 
more a veritable blessing as it clothed the naked earth and 
hid and bandaged its hard raw places ? Ebba felt a new 
inward calm as she saw with what a solacing benediction 
the fleecy covering softened the jagged outlines of de- 
nuded nature, and silenced paltry clatter everywhere. 
And what could be more lovely, she queried, than the 
sugared and creamy tone it gave to the burdened ever- 
greens, which in their bending whiteness suggested the 
virginal attitude of prayer? How cheerful, indeed, the 
glow upon the most brown-faced objects and the com- 
monest aspects of mother earth ! and above all how 
serenely the pure and noiseless touch of this first snow 
seemed to typify the sleep which follows decay and pre- 
cedes the new growth. Ebba was a child of the North- 
land and had joyously greeted the new snow every year 
of her life; but never before had the delicate purity of its 
folds seemed so beautiful. Now the beauty was informed 
with meaning. The rippling current of the young girl’s 
life began to eddy into silent depths, and every day there 
came to her new hints of a sterner existence which must 
inexorably balance joy with sorrow and link duty with 
rewarding peace. 

One of these was the growing weakness of her grand- 
mother, which Ebba had been watching with grave con- 
cern. This was less observable in aii}^ marked disorder 
or fading faculties of the old lady than in the gradual 
wasting of her strength, and especially in a growing gen- 
tleness which was displacing the old high spirit and im- 
perious will. But this first snow-fall seemed to awaken 
the memories and restore the strength of her younger 
days. Her thoughts dwelt fondly upon the brisk sports 
and indoor joys of her childhood. Each day she referred 
in some new form to the gladsome frolics of the old Yule 
observances, and she . evinced a strong desire to witness 
once more a Christmas celebration worthy of the olden 
time. Such clinging to its beautiful customs and lavish 
hospitalities inspired her with new hope, and the zest and 
energy with which she projected a grand preparation for 
the event promised an almost miraculous renewal of her 
youth. 

Although it was yet but nearing the middle of Decem- 
ber the Generalskan was impatient for the immediate be- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


217 


ginning of the needed preparation, and one morning as 
they were conversing upon another subject she suddenly 
said: 

“ Do thou, my Ebba, bring forth the silver and the dear 
old pottery and the family table-ware; and every precious 
old heirloom shall grace the spread; our best stores shall 
be served in unstinted measure. And let Olaf be at once 
summoned: I will hold speech with him touching the 
Yule sheaves and the farm stock comforts and the Christ- 
mas fire-wood, and the — ” 

“ But, grandma mine,” interposed Ebba, alarmed at 
the old lady’s unwonted excitement, ” ’tis e’en a full fort- 
night yet till Christmas.” 

‘‘ The time is ne’er too long to make preparations be- 
times. My purpose holds to give cheer to all the country- 
side. Naught shall be spared to make the festival 
worthy the olden customs and the olden welcome to 
Swedish board.” 

“What saith Olaf?” she queried, as that re- 
sponsible helper presented himself in response to the sum- 
mons. 

‘ ‘ Sheaves quotha ? Aye, choice sheaves picked from 
the harvest by these hands; and enough o’ ’em to 
crown every house top and barn top and rick top 
on this manor with enough and more to feed all the 
birds in Sweden were they black in numbers as the 
raven in color.” 

“ And Yule provender for the farm beasts ?” 

” Plenty and to spare, of a kind very rare,” with which 
attempt to rhj^me the man made a pleased backward mo- 
tion in compliment to himself. 

“’Tis well. And the fire- wood from well-approved 
trees ?” 

“Will be ready in plenty; and dry and ketchy and 
flamey enough to roast a double Yule revelry. ’Twill be 
sledded in and built in shapely piles betimes?” 

“In that fail not, I charge thee. And the watch 
candles ?” 

“Shall be forthcoming; for we dip when we slaugh- 
ter, and we’ll finish the slaughter a fortnight ere we 
light.” 

“ And forget not the Yule log, Olaf.” 

“Aye, good my lady, call me no more yonv man 


2i8 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


o’ luck an I have not saved the best lot o’ barley 
and the best patch o’ hops to brew the best Yule ale in 
three kingdoms.” 

‘‘None but the best shall stain my Vasa tankard, 
nor e’en draw the dear relic from its hiding-place. 
And the store, Olaf, see well to that. Pray, hast 
enough ?” 

“ Enough ! an I have not double enough brewed 
ale for thirteen days of Yule, to begin on Doppare- 
dagen and to last till the twentieth day when Knut 
dance Yule out, then call me no more true son of 
viking.” 

“ Well done, thou good and faith — stay !” and the old 
Generalskan, as she checked an irreverent quotation, 
added, “bethink thyself betimes and keep watch for 
a stout and shapely Yule tree with ample breadth 
of limbs and sturdy to the upbearing of generous bur- 
dens.” 

“ E'en such have I spotted; and in a glen so hidden that 
no knave shall forestall me withal.” 

An expression of restful satisfaction overspread the face 
of the old lady as she dismissed Olaf, when with a silent 
blessing she sank back exhausted in her chair. Pvbba, 
while rejoicing at her grandmother’s exhibition of revived 
vigor, dreaded the effect of any unusual exertions from 
her in the Christmas preparations, and therefore sought to 
divert her thoughts to other matters. 

The old lady, inheriting the bold .spirit of the past, de- 
lighted in its traditions. She loved the simple annals of 
manly daring and the songs of the true home-life that in- 
spired its literature. And she was among the first to take 
an aidful interest in the revival of that mythological lore 
whose treasures were reaching them from the mystic 
depths of Iceland. The rich stores of this half-born liter- 
ature had been partially rescued from oral ambiguity by 
the advent of Christianity. From its shaping touch they 
were aided to written durability, and they shared with the 
Reformation in that new birth which the discovery of 
printing and the revival of learning assured to civilization. 
But the rescued literature languished from the dire distrac- 
tion of the Thirty Years’ W’ar. The exhaustive contest 
so long raging between the superstitions of a corrupt 
papacy and the iconoclastic spirit of northern Protestant- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


219 


ism fed a realistic furore as savage as the legendary 
heathenism it deplored. Under its withering intolerance 
poetic feeling, noble aspiration and the gentler virtues all 
alike maintained a hard struggle for recognition. 

Yet the poetic spirit in its primitive beauty, unaided and 
unadorned, flowed on from a copious fountain in lonely 
Iceland. Its insular source was its protection from cor- 
rupting influences. It gathered volume in its course and 
swept on through all hindrances. It appealed to the val- 
iant impulses and true feeling of all peoples in all ages. 
A Danish translation from the Old Norse of Snorri Sturle- 
son’s Chronicles of the Danish Kings had been published 
nearly ninety years before, and subsequent researches of 
ardent Danish scholars had discovered parchment manu- 
scripts of the prose and poetic Eddas complete. And 
what with Resenius’ recent publication of the prose Edda 
and the poetic Voluspa and Havamal, with the increasing 
labors of Swedish antiquarians and the rapid collections at 
Upsala, there was now a zealous revival of public interest 
in old Norse literature. 

Ebba’s youthful ardor in the cause had lent fresh stimu- 
lus to the Generalskan’s interest in these researches, and 
the two ladies had spent the long evenings of the previous 
winter in the reading and study of Eddaic song and Saga 
story. Ebba was anxious to renew now this pleasant occu- 
pation, partially to divert her grandmother from over-ab- 
sorption in the Christmas preparations. To this the old 
lady was at first averse. But Ebba urged it again and 
again with more earnestness. 

‘‘Well, well, my child, when we shall duly acquit our- 
selves of these Yule festivities we will consider further of 
it. The labor and care of their fit preparation must needs 
first occupy us.” 

But as it was from just such labor and care that Ebba 
was bent upon relieving the Generalskan, she would not 
consent to any delay. And so with kindly and deferential 
persistence from the younger woman that very evening 
were re-commenced those studious readings mingled with 
bright talk with which the long winter evenings were 
pleasantly whiled away by the cosy fireside, even as 
longer and darker evenings had earlier been shortened 
and brightened with similar occupations in that treasure 
realm of Norse literature, storm-beaten, lonely Iceland. 


2 20 


Ebb a ’ Borjesoii. 


And thus as the winter’s gloom deepened and a nipping 
air and shrieking winds without gave edge and zest to the 
comfort within, while quiet fields rested from summer 
bloom, and all the land lay white and silent in the hush 
of sleeping nature, a laughing song from the great back log 
fire and shadowy dances through its cheery blaze drew the 
household in dearer communion around the old family 
hearth-stone. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A few days later Ebba awoke after a stormy night with 
an odd feeling of powdery moisture upon her face. Rub- 
bing her eyes as it grew lighter she seemed to see flour- 
dust upon her bed and sprinkled through her chamber. 
Pointing near its centre a glittering lance on the floor 
widened to a crack in the house-wall near the chimney, 
and little white piles and sparkling lines had found ingress 
through divers unknown holes and crevices of the old 
mansion. 

Well she knew what it meant. More than once had 
snow already fallen this season but now the. great white 
tempest, stern winter’s typical storm, she knew had 
deeply buried Sweden in snow. “ ’Tis come,” she 
exclaimed as she sprang from her bed. Peering through 
the half-smothered window she saw snow hillocks and vast 
drifts with projecting eaves and ornate peaks, and every- 
where crested billows and wave-like forms with curling 
fringes seemed suddenly stilled as in marble petrifaction. 
Fences had disappeared and the burdened evergreens were 
bent low in snowy monotony. Grotesque figures gleamed 
in pale torpor from barn-yard and between oddly warped 
cow-houses. The wood shed had become massive white 
marble; the chicken coop seemed a small buried temple; 
the familiar ' well-curb fiercely glistened as a white 
panelled rampart; the bucket had a long-pointed crown 
like a church spire, and ax-helves, rake-handles and 
clothes-lines were afflicted with white swellings of pon- 
derous dimensions. 

Eong Ebba gazed at the glittering spectacle from with- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


221 


in, and when she at length ventured without, all nature, 
active and passive, she found besieged and imprisoned. 
Only timorous, muffled sounds ventured upon the senti- 
nelled calm. The cows from their shelter looked out 
upon the buried fields and lowed in grave content. The 
sheep bleated with an added tremor of plaintive thanks- 
giving. The fowls in their restricted range peeped 
timidly forth and resumed their one-legged poise of moody 
contemplation, and even the unfastidious pigs, after some 
snout researches in the line of snowy enterprise, grunted 
forth their discomfiture without and retired to rooted con- 
tentment within. 

But it was not a universal quiescence. For Olaf from 
the earliest peep of day had been in vigorous protest by 
breaking snow paths about the premises. His shouts 
rang out in merry triumph as he overcame one obstacle 
after another. Cheery responses came through the frosty 
air from neighboring farms. Snow-breakers exchanged 
bantering calls from competing parties. The public snow- 
plows at the cross-roads were brought into hasty 
requisition, and soon a self-mustered army were making a 
simultaneous charge upon the blockading snow. When 
Olaf at length achieved an open passage to the barn-yard, 
objects emerged from his excavating hands as from a 
buried Pompeii, and the voices of its inmates greeted 
him as from the petrified sleepers of its silent abodes. 

Open roads and ready pathways indeed were now all 
important; for it was less than a fortnight to the beginning 
of the Christmas festivities. And big and busy were now 
to be preparations for the event. From every village and 
hamlet must be sledded new family stores of sugar and 
raisins and rice for puddings and cakes and delicacies; 
from the windmill must come freshly ground rye, flour 
and oat meal ; the branvin kegs must be re-filled and the 
generous larder re-stocked with reserved supplies of fish 
and birds and venison. Great loads of juniper and fir and 
trailing eve’rgreens must be brought from the forests for 
house and porch and yard decoration, and no sluggards or 
sulks or idlers must dull the brightness or spoil the merri- 
ment of the glad Yule days. 

So with one impulse the whole population emerged 
from their snowy imprisonment and busied themselves in 
the common cause. The Generalskan was determined 


222 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


that this celebration should if possible surpass in complete- 
ness and merriment any Yule festival of her experience; 
for she added in an undertone, “ it will be my last/’ And, 
moreover, it was to be for the special delight of the 
smaller farmers and working people, by whom she was 
held in love and reverence through all the countr}' around. 
And as a Northman’s Christmas brings joy to all classes so 
all joined in joyous preparations for it. Neighborl}^ help- 
ers of all degrees came and went ; sledges of slain 
deer pointing their frozen legs into the air glided 
through the snow, load after load of many-shaped 
coniferous trees arrived, and every sort and tint of 
green branches, looking as if animated forests had taken to 
snow-sliding, were brought into the yard, where trans- 
ported trees and long poles were being wreathed and 
crowned with the heaviest sheaves of unthrashed grain to 
be reared upright for the topmost welcome to the Yule 
merry-making. And while this was going on out of doors, 
all sorts of baking and stewing and boiling and brewing 
kept company with weaving and quilting and divers ply- 
ing of busy fingers mingled with the queryings of busy 
tongues, indoors. The whole place was so alive with hum 
and stir that it seemed like a ver}^ bee-hive. And need 
enough, too; for between the encroaching darkness of 
night and morning the chased hours seem to take wing, 
and in the coming of the Yule days, at all events, time and 
tide know no waiting. 

The preliminary Dopparedagen arrived ; came then, 
too, the heralding pastor and organist and sexton collect- 
ing the church tithes; and the Generalskan made sure that 
their baskets and bags were generously filled; and the 
grateful curate, at the madam’s request, was glad to 
promise his services for Christmas eve. And next morn- 
ing was to be the final washing and floor scrubbing and 
the general cleaning for the momentous afternoon before 
Christmas. 

And at last it is here ? The whole house is sweet and 
clean and the floors are strewn with sprigs and leaves of 
juniper, spruce and fir. The walls are decorated with 
green branches, and the doorways arched with welcoming 
wreaths with mottoes, and the casements gracefully 
garlanded, while large white sheets are suspended from 
the ceiling, t\yined and festooned with strips of linen and 


Ebb a Bojjeson. 


223 


bright-colored ribbons radiating from a suspended crown 
of straw in the centre, with streaming flags of blue, red 
and green cloth. 

In the later planning and final execution of these pre- 
parations the old lady entered with the zest and energy of 
her youth. For as matters neared readiness Ebba found 
it impossible to restrain or even modify the compelling 
guidance which she gave to them. She seemed in all 
things as ready and efficient as her grandchild, who could 
but the more busy herself in relieving co-operation. As 
the coveted end at last rounded to the shaping command of 
the Generalskan, her pale face was tinged with a bright 
flush of excitement, and never was happier queen in the 
triumphant hour of her coronation. 

“ Ebba, dear child,” she exclaimed with a gracious 
glow, ” it is near the hour of sunset; do thou lead forth 
these maidens to see that every living thing on this manor 
be made happy with plenty. Omit not the weakest or 
meanest. It shall signify the fullness with which the 
Saviour’s coming blesseth the world and its creatures.” 

In gleeful obedience Ebba put herself timidly at the 
head of a gay party of country girls who marched in joy- 
ous couples through the snow-path to the outbuildings, 
carrying meal and grain in their hands. They went 
through the cow-houses and gave to each occupant many 
times its usual allowance, to which they added choice 
viands from the house accompanied with fond Christmas 
greetings. And Ebba took sly observation as to the stand- 
ing up or lying down of the cows, with a laughing toss of 
her head as in comical halt-acceptance of the old peasant 
faith that the position of the animals on Yule eve deter- 
mined the character of the next harvest. Then after fast- 
ening a bright new stall-collar about the neck of each cow, 
the girls in like manner went to the sheep and pigs and 
visited upon the same kindly mission every farm creature 
accessible, ‘all being feasted far beyond present or calcul- 
able needs. Retracing their steps between lines of piled 
up snow walls, the procession had nearly reached 
the house when there rang out from the rear the sud- 
den cry : — 

” Mercy on us, we forgot the cross!” 

“What say ye then?” enquired the others as they gath- 
ered with eager queries about the speaker. 


224 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Why the cross, hark ye ! We left no blessed sign to 
keep the Troll from the cows. ’Twill ne’er do thus.” 

“Truly nay; and the Lbrd keep us we could not so re- 
turn to the good Generalskan. Nor must this be a heathen 
pathway for Yule footsteps; here Kumba, Ingrid, Greta, 
Christina, take you this chalk and hasten back and mark 
three strong crosses against the cow-house and we’ll weave 
here the Yule crosses.” 

“ For what?” playfully queried Ebba. 

“ Lord love ye, then, to crown these snow-banks and 
the last load of fire-wood. Dare we look for a lucky 
Christmas, if we work no charm Against the sneaking 
Troll?” 

“ ’Twas well bethought and timely we hope,” said the 
half-dismayed girls as they gathered about the common 
store of green branches and began weaving leafy crosses.’ ’ 

“ ’Tis an apt fancy,” said Ebba: “and in harmless 
keeping with this lovely work, if naught else;” and she 
merrily joined her companions in their purpose as she 
spoke. And quickh^ the snow walls and the last load of 
the winter’s wood were crowned with protecting green 
crosses. 

Then the household and all the assembled neighbors 
witnessed the beautiful custom of feasting the birds by fas- 
tening upon the house top and upon barns and sheds and 
erected poles, chosen bunches and sheaves of unthreshed 
grain for the Yule tide supply of feathered creation. Olaf 
had planted young trees and wreathed poles surmounted 
with sheaves and now further supplies were ceremoniously 
placed upon the house top and upon all the farm buildings 
with a special crown of plenty upon the topmost reach of old 
Druid Jarl. Finally the too-officious Yarg, who was some- 
times confined upon the arrival of ‘ ‘company, ’ ’ was released 
from his kennel and given the freedom of the whole house, 
upon which occasion he conceived it his duty to feed his 
capacious stomach to bursting. From the effect of this 
over-feast the faithful dog lay groaning in the snow until 
he was relieved and cool enough to inspect the proceed- 
ings, and then as Olaf finished arranging the green decor- 
ations he turned his good-natured scrutiny upon the still 
assembling throng. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


225 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

When the preparatory ceremonials were concluded and 
due cheer administered- to the dumb inhabitants of land 
and sky, the family and guests assembled in the great 
living-: 00m of the ancient mansion where all was in readi- 
ness for the chief festivities. It was a beautiful scene — 
such a picture of brightness and warmth and cosy cheer 
as gladdens a Northman’s home in the ever joyous Yule 
tide. 

From the large protruding fire-place the great Yule log 
blazed forth a welcome to all. In the large recess between 
the hearth and the further lateral corner stood an ample 
Christmas tree, wide spreading branches bending under 
its weight of Julklapper and unlighted candles; and when 
these last and the larger candles ranged round th^ room 
were lighted and the ample Christmas wood was set blaz- 
ing, the cheery light smiled a glad greeting through the 
garlanded room and gave an indescribable glow to the 
scene. There were collected the ruddy-faced peasantry 
from all the country-side, and the gladness of their ex- 
pectant faces vied with the brightness of the yellow and 
blue and variously colored attire in lending gay anima- 
tion to the picture. Gathered in chatting groups over the 
twig and leaf-strewn floor all were engrossed with the 
sights and talk of the moment, when the buzz of voices 
was suddenly hushed and all eyes were turned to the 
venerable host who spoke from her easy chair by the 
hearth. 

“ Merry greetings, good friends! Happy, most happy 
Christmas to ye all! May joy and gladness, sweet peace 
and thankful plenty be this day yours with promise of en- 
during good to you here and in the abode beyond. Mid- 
summer and- the Yule-tide are the two festivals of the 
Northman — the flood and ebb of his tidal year; the morn- 
ing and the night are they bf his swift-flowing days. In 
the glad mid-summer time nature lighteneth our hearts, 
and when nature sleeps the saving Christ bringeth light 
from winter's darkness; and e’en as when the world was 
most darkened in sin He appeared, so in the darkest days 
of the year came He into the world. Verily is this a time 

• 15 


226 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


of joy and gladness, and ’tis meet that all living creatures 
partake thereof. Our first thought be for such as cannot 
speak for themselves. 

“ Ebba, my child, what sayest thou— hast made the 
outside rounds ?” 

“ Aye, e’en as thou bad’st me.” 

“ And thy report is — ” 

“That the farm animals and all dumb creatures of 
earth and air have been fed and cared for and left in con- 
tent so far as we could reach them. Be these true 
maidens my witnesses.” 

“What, then, say ye, Kumba and Ingrid and Greta 
and Christina?” 

“Say we all that every beast in stall and pen, every 
fowl and feathered thing in yard and barn, and all the 
birds we could entice from the sky have been fed in 
plenty and lulled in peace.” 

“ Saw ye this e’en for yourselves ?” 

“ Aye; and joined gleefully in the doing of it. We fed 
all we could find withal, and gave heed and cheer to Olaf 
as he lured the birds with loaded sheaves on roof and 
pole.” 

“ And — and — ” continued the old lady with half 
amused hesitancy, “the crosses?” 

“ Bethought we in good time e’en of these: and now 
surely are the prowling Troll balked: for on the cow- 
house we chalked, and on snow paths and wood pile 
wreathed we the spell- working and holy emblems.” 

“ ’Tis well, and e’en worthy the guarding care of the 
olden time; but ere the revelry begin, for further and 
final assurance that none be neglected, do thou, my Ebba, 
bid Olaf go without and take a last diligent look for luck- 
less wayfarers. Let him scan well the odd roads and 
unfrequented ways and lonely by-paths, lest some poor 
belated traveler or homeless wanderer be unbidden to 
share in our gladness. Let none suffer with hunger or 
cold without while we feast in warmth within.” 

Ebba, as she left the room to do as she was bidden, ex- 
changed knowing glances with her girlish comrades, who 
quietly stole away through a side-door, and all quickl}^ 
conferring together without, sped away to an appointed 
place in an outhouse where nimble fingers speedily trans- 
formed Olaf into a quaint old man and his young mistress 
into a smiling old woman, and the funny old couple were 
so loaded with packages and articles fastened to their 
peculiar clothing that they cauld scarcely walk. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


227 


Meanwhile, the company within were awaiting Ebba’s 
return for the great fun to begin, and they were beginning 
to wonder at her long absence when suddenly there was a 
shuffling of feet at the door with confused voices and the 
sound of bells, when the merry old couple suddenly 
entered the room in grotesque costumes, bearing between 
them a huge basket of good things, and limping and 
stumbling with the weight and hindrance of the treasures 
dangling about them. Then were busy voices and 
quickening movements as the gifts were distributed with 
merr}^ laughter and clapping of hands as the words 
accompanying the presents were read aloud. 

And lo ! the largest bundle of all proved to be a 
splendid winter robe for the dear Generalskan, compris- 
ing a bear, wolf, fox and otter skin, joined and curiously 
wrought together so that the heads of the animals stared 
out of the four sides as if alive, while inside was a warm 
woolen lining of various bright colors. It was the contri- 
bution of many loving hearts, and the happy hostess was 
so touched with the unexpected remembrance of her that 
her tongue was silent while her eyes filled with tears. 
Ebb received an ingeniously formed article combined of 
different woods and lare stones inwrought and finely pol- 
ished, which she greatly prized. Olaf was provided with a 
huge pair of fur mittens, while the rest of the household 
were not forgotten; and so various and abundant were the 
gifts distributed among the guests -that not one of the 
large company failed to obtain some kind of token of the 
happy occasion. 

Then the Yule ale and the fiery finkelbranyin with 
other liquors were passed around with injunctions to 
drink gleefully, and .soon conviviality reigned in the old 
home. The hostess besought them to give free scope to 
their merriment. She declared it was a time to forget 
blighted crops and o’er-brooding care, to give no heed to 
untimely frosts or unreckoned woes, but to exchange 
hauntings of evil for omens of good and to remember only 
the blessing the saving Christ-child brought into the world. 
“ So shall ye all know the truth He taught and the glad- 
ne.ss He enjoined. An old song hath it,” she pursued — , 

“ ‘The peasant law and practice too. 

Every night and all night through. 

Is to "drink and drown all sorrow. 

Let betide what will to-morrow. ’ 

It would ill become me to urge you to this length; for as 
Odin declareth, even the flocks return to the fold e’er the 


228 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


slothful know when to restrain their gluttony; yet I be- 
seech you, friends, to let your joy be unmeasured and 
dull care untreasured; and least of all be not mine the un- 
gracious task to spy out the conduct of my guests. And 
now, good friends, ’tis above all my earnest plea that ye 
make of this festival a full round of the olden custom. I 
pray )^e be with me all e’en till that twentieth day that 
seest the Yule danced out.” 

Loud and hilarious were the assenting responses which 
rang among the company, mingled with sounds of popping 
cork and clanging cup, while boisterous pledges of fealty 
to the Generalskan’s cause redoubled. 

” Now for the games,” shouted some of the more impa- 
tient of the youthful guests. ‘‘Who speaks for Ta Jul 
Dockan ?” 

” But have we a doll, then ? Ah, soon make we one.” 

‘‘ No, here be one,” cried another. ‘‘ Yes, quite ready 
is the doll.” 

And then Olaf volunteered to lie upon his back with his 
head toward the improvised little one set upright on the 
floor, and vastly he amused the company by bending him- 
self like a hoop and trying to lift the doll with his feet, the 
verdict of the sober on-lookers being when he failed, that 
he was too tipsy for the feat. ^ 

‘‘ Try a shoe in place of the doll,” cried one. 

‘‘ Not I,” replied Olaf. The request was again urged. 

“ Nay, indeed,” rejoined the apprehensive servant, ris- 
ing indignantly from the floor. ” What, then, want ye a 
corpse to be carried soon from this house ?” 

“ Stuff and bother, ’tis but fun: here goes for the shoe 
test. ” 

“That shall not be, then,” protested Olaf interposing: 
“ I tell ye, it bodeth direst ill-luck.” 

“Stand aside, man!” rejoined the other angrily: Olaf re- 
sisted with growing ire; and the high words drew the at- 
tention of the Generalskan, who forbade Olaf to interfere. 
The game proceeded: the shoe was taken from where it 
lay and thrown forward: it was watched with close atten- 
tion, and when it struck the floor pointing fatefully to- 
ward the door, a murmur of dreading disapproval ran 
round the room. For it was an olden sign that through that 
door one of the family must soon be carried a corpse. For 
a moment the merriment was checked, sober glances were 
exchanged among the older guests, and a visible shade 
passed over the face of the old lady as she settled herself 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


229 


with deeper composure in her chair. But soon other 
games were proposed as a prompt diversion. They were 
urged by the hostess, and the hilarity proceeded. 

Among the many plays Olaf declared his preference for 
the club game, for in that he was sure to fail, and he pre- 
ferred the penalty to the reward : and so when he did not, 
while lying on his back, successfully twirl a suspended 
club with one hand and drink a tankard of ale from the 
other, he submitted to the fiendish torture of draining 
another tankard to the last drop; which penalty he bore 
with a fortitude worthy of old viking wassailers. 

And so game after game and sometimes several at once 
kept the company in merry commotion. Young girls found 
lovers in kind and quantity by casting straws to the ceiling 
and watching the manner of their fall, and the good-man 
of many a homestead found just how man}’ rye sheaves 
the next harvest would bring by balancing straws upon 
his knee. Others foretold fate by emptying the white of 
an egg into a vessel of clear water and reading the myste- 
rious result in the ghastly or winsome configuration of the 
final result. 

But merriest of all were the numerous dances that fol- 
lowed. For in the courtship dance the gay lads so wooed 
the coy lassies that the whole compaii}^ soon consisted of 
engaged couples: the weaving dance furnished them with 
wedding garments; others of various significance kept go- 
ing the giddy whirl, and finally came the uproarious ring 
dance wherein the frolic and confusion, the vigorous waist- 
clasping and breath-gasping were .so great that all were at 
length content to pause for the rest that preceded the wel- 
come call to dinner. 

And so at last the guests were gathered about the ample 
board to partake of that sumptuous finality of the fete, the 
Christmas eve dinner. And most bountiful was the feast. 
The proud Generalskan had spared no effort or expense to 
render it worthy the family reputation for hospitalitv. 
Every product of Scandinavia or elsewhere procurable 
for table use, there found place. In front of the hostess 
the big home-made candle and its branches blazed their 
ruddy light over a groaning profusion of Jul-brod and num- 
berless accompaniments from far and near all gathered 
about that great central boar which from its olden conse- 
cration to Frey had become symbolic of Yule-tide cheer. 
To these were added successive dishes of the indispens- 
able lut-fisk in its savory dressing, while the bountiful 


230 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Yule-ales and more hilarious beverages provided would 
have sufficed for the high wassail of the old sea rovers 
and made glad the potent quaffers who paid fealty to Thor 
and Odin. 

After smorgas and the solemn service of the liturgy, the 
feast proceeded with jest, jibe and rustic outbursts of hon- 
est merriment. But it was soon observed by some of the 
quieter guests that their hostess, while striving to promote 
their pleasure and pretending to join in the banquet, really 
partook of nothing on the board, while her thin pale face 
and faint tremulous voice saddened with more ominous 
meaning. Ebba had early seen this with alarm, and had 
more than once urged her to beg the indulgence of her 
guests and retire, but the old lady with proud persistence 
had waived her away. Her frail condition becoming more 
noticeable Ebba at length achieved her purpose, and the 
hostess slowly rising with assi.stance from her chair, be- 
sought the company to continue their festivities; and then 
leaving strict injunctions for the ceaseless burning of the 
candles and Yule-wood during the night, the old lady bade 
a plaintive farewell, and leaning on the arm of her grand- 
child moved feebly away. It was a sad adieu and not un- 
accompanied with some audible weeping among the most 
sensitive of the company. A moment of solemn silence 
followed; and then tender and abundant were the words 
of sympathy and sorrow elicited from the saddened 
guests. Some of the more impulsive sought to honor her 
wishes by lusty avowals of their purpose to see the Yule 
days out; but little dreamed the gay company how sadly 
and suddenly their festivities were to terminate. 

The assemblage dispered at midnight; for then began 
the Christmas day. Many of the young fellows snatched 
sleep as best they could without going to bed; for the first 
call to the Julottan would soon warn all to be astir. At 
the early hour of two the first bell for that matin service 
pealed over the darkened land, darkened by calendered 
nature but whitened by her snowy vestments and by the 
whiter promise of uplifting hope and faith. An hour later 
the second bell aroused the people to anticipatory brisk- 
ness, and before four the snowy roadways were black 
\yith hastening parties bearing aloft the rude torches to 
lighten their pathway to church. There they made a 
huge pile of their discarded pine-knot-lights, which flamed 
up into cheery illumination, chasing the ghostly shadows 
through the solemn fir groves. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


231 


Inside the church the brilliant Yule candles and the 
brightness pf the assembled faces made a scene of joyous 
animation. And surely there was true worship in the 
united burst of that song of the Resurrection which arose 
with the first streak of dawn. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

But sadder days were near. The venerable lady who 
was so revered by all the country-side, was on her death 
bed. For months she had been visibly failing, but the 
excitement of the Christmas preparations had so buoyed 
her with temporary strength that her closest friends suf- 
fered themselves to be blinded with hopes of what seemed 
so real; for as long as anything remained undone or in 
doubt concerning the celebration, she was nerved up 
enough to meet all demands upon her strength. But now 
the joyous success of the festivities was assured. They 
were happily verging from the gaieties of Christmas eve 
to their blissful climax — to the blessed morn of the natal 
day; and, lacking the stimulus to further exertion, tired 
nature asserted herself and the venerable sufferer rapidly 
sank away. Having taken leave of the gay assemblage 
she tottered with Ebba’s help to her room and sank ex- 
hausted upon her bed. There she lay in a stupor of pros- 
tration until the first bell of the Julottan pealed over the 
hills at two o’clock in the morning. 

“What is that?’’ she faintlv asked as the sounds 
reached her ears. 

“ ’Tis the first call to the Julottan,’’ softly replied Ebba. 

Suddenly the old lady raised herself, and resting her 
head upon one arm as she reclined she lifted her eyes 
with a fixed upward gaze, saying: 

“ ’Tis come, I know it well. At last my summons is at 
hand. Welcome the joy to come.’’ 

“Say not so, O, rny grandma !’’ cried Ebba deeply sob- 
bing. “Thou art but weary and worn with o’er- 
much care. A season of sleep and rest will restore 
grandma; she is long to be with us yet for our joy and 
comfort. ’ ’ 

“ Nay, my child, deceive not thyself. I would fain com- 
fort thee but ne’er with blind hope. Thou speakest of 
sleep and rest — mine is to be that sleep of eternal rest 


232 


Ebba Borjeson. 


which I trust shall know no awakening save in the prom- 
ised joy of our Saviour. Yet with the Father’s will I 
would fain tarry yet awhile; for I have fervently prayed 
if it seemed good in His sight, that I might meet Arvid be- 
fore I go; that — ” 

“ O God, in thy mercy grant it,” cried Ebba, filling a 
momentary pause in her grandmother’s labored speech. 

‘ ‘ That so I might be the more assured of the humble 
peace which befitteth His presence; for on that head, as 
my Ebba knoweth, my heart has long been sore troubled. 
In my sheer pride of power I wronged the poor boy — 
drove him forth into an unpitying world, from an unpity- 
ing home. Yea, and well I feel that it is only through 
God’s mercy that curses dire have not recoiled upon my 
head.” 

“Nay,” interposed Ebba, “my grandma did then as 
ever what seemed for the best. ’ ’ 

“And if the same great mercy,” pursued the old lady, 

‘ ‘ should vouchsafe these failing eyes a sight of the wan- 
derer — should permit these withered arms to clasp the 
dear exile to a penitent heart, hwould be a solace unspeak- 
able — a blessing unmerited, for which God knows ho\y be- 
seechingly, if unworthily, I have prayed. But if such be 
not the Father’s will thou wilt see Arvid — thou wilt tell 
the poor proud boy how lowly the harsher pride of his 
grandmother was humbled in its folly — how her stricken 
heart yearned toward him and longed to make the amend 
on earth she hopes to make in heav — ’ ’ 

Her words were choked: her growing earnestness had 
hastened the feverish shortness of her breath; a quivering 
flush shot into her face and blurred her vision. Ebba sup- 
ported her head; she fanned her hot cheeks and bathed 
her throbbing temples, but these and all else attempted 
were but feeble palliatives of the raging fever that soon 
made mad sport of its victim. Ebba had early sent for a 
physician but when he arrived before dawn the delirious 
patient was wildly unconscious of all near surroundings. 

In her mental wanderings she went back to the 
scenes of her early days; she thought she was with the 
army vogaging over the North Sea to Germany; the 
adverse winds seemed at one moment to have parted her 
from her devoted Eric, and at another he seemed to have 
fallen among the hapless victims at Magdeburg.* Then 
she imagined her beloved had rejoined her and they had 
finally parted at Erfurt and were in the crisis of the battle 
of Eutzen: “ the King bleeds I” she cried; “ Gustavus has 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


233 


fallen — to the rescue, valiant Swedes; dead or alive leave 
not his body with the papists.” Then her mind wandered 
to the death of Ebba’s parents and the childhood of the 
orphaned girl, followed by low mutterings pertaining to a 
later period. “Oh, comeback, Arvid,” she entreated con- 
vulsively; “heed not my blind frenzy; what is our poor 
human spleen to the sadness of Divine anger ? ‘ Vengeance 
is mine saith the Lord ’ — come, oh come back, my wander- 
ing Arvid!” Then speech failed the sufferer while her 
body continued to toss and her features to twitch in the 
throes of feverish emotion. 

After a period of stillness as from exhaustion her mind 
reverted to the battle-field of Lutzen: “ Ah ha!” she cried 
exultantly, “ my Eric leads the charge — forward, Smalan- 
ders — to the rescue, heroic Swedes all — now— now — now ! 
Bravo! they win — the enemy flies — but where is Eric — 
there, there, he falls ! — ’tis a day, alas, both won and lost, 
but my hero is safe, safe! for the Allfather taketh the slain 
Eric to the Christian Valhalla — he hath fought the good 
fight — there waiteth he for re-union with comrades of 
earth — waiteth e’en for me; dear Lord, seemeth it good 
that I go — I — I go — go — .” The fever had spent its 
force; the sufferer lay in motionless silence with hollow 
cheeks and death-like pallor. In a few moments she 
opened her eyes. “Spoke I,” she feebly enquired, “of 
earthly combat — of the sword of flesh ? Nay ’tis the 
sword of the spirit, ’tis the charge of angels, the contest 
of love in God’s realms of peace that I would seek.” 
She spoke so low that her last words could hardly be dis- 
tinguished. The doctor gave her a prescription and she 
sank into a long quiet slumber. 

The appearance of the physician at early dawn had 
warned the few guests that lingered and with their quiet 
departure soon came more than the Sabbath hush usual on 
Christmas mornings in Sweden. Long the old lady slept; 
her prostration was so great that it much resembled death; 
and silent and solemn was the old mansion so lately joy- 
ous with Christmas hilarities. It was now the middle of 
Christmas afternoon; the silence had been broken only by 
sympathetic enquiries from the calling guests, and the pa- * 
tient yet lay in hushed repose, when Helga softly opened 
the door and whispened to Ebba that a stranger without 
desired to speak with her. Excusing herself to the at- 
tending doctor Ebba stole quietly out, when suddenly there 
were muffled exclamations of “Arvid!” “ PZbba!” and 
brother and sister were locked in each other’s arms. 


234 ' Ebb a Borjeson. 

“Thy face reassures me, Ebba — I am not, then, too 
late?” 

“ Nay, brother, our grandma is fast sinking but she yet 
lives; and, O ! words cannot express our joy at thy com- 
ing.” 

“ She is willing, then, to meet me ?” 

“ ’Tis the one earthlv yearning she allows herself. 
Morning and night since last thou left us hath she pined 
for thee without ceasing.” 

“ God be praised, I am in time. Hard I strove to reach 
you by Christmas eve, but head winds forbade it.” 

And then followed in low rapid sentences the brother’s 
narrative of his adventures since leaving Ebba. Upon his 
abrupt separation from her at Stockholm he had made his 
way down the Baltic coast and near Nykoping took pas- 
sage on a vessel just weighing anchor for England. They 
made good progress until merging from the Skager Rack 
into the North Sea, when their vessel was wrecked by a 
furious hurricane which cast them upon one of the re- 
motest and most desolate of the Orkney islands. Here he 
and two survivors of the lost crew endured incredible 
hardships from hunger and exposure; but at last they 
luckily found passage to the mainland, and so by land and 
sea, after tedious delays, Arvid found his way to London. 
His money and most of his personal effects were lost, but 
he had chanced to find employment in London and 
partially re-supplied himself and, longing to complete his 
cherished visit to the old homestead, he resolved to come 
on at all hazards as soon as he could earn the means. He 
had heard of the grandmother’s failing strength, but knew 
nothing of her last alarming illness till he heard it from 
Helga upon his arrival here. 

“ And surely my brother’s coming is providential,” 
said Ebba, “ but how best to break the news or show thy- 
self I scarce do know; for I much fear the shock may 
prove too much for the dear patient in her sore prostra- 
tion. But we’ll consult first our doctor.” 

Upon such consultation they were advised to await her 
condition at the termination of her repose. At sunset the 
old lady calmly opened her eyes. A sweet peace com- 
posed her pale features. She gazed slowly about the 
room as if looking for an expected face. “ ’Twas an 
olden custom,” she softly said, “to take journeys on 
Christmas eve in many parts of Sweden: I began mine 
last evening, but ’tis a long, long journey, never to end, I 
hope, but in the happy land. When a little girl I heard 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


235 


our pastor read ‘ when a few years shall come I shall de- 
part, whence I shall not return.’ Dear friends, the years 
for me are come: now when a few hours are passed I .shall 
leave you to meet again, I shall trust, at the journey’s 
happy end. I had hoped to see / j/;;/ at my journey’s be- 
ginning, but God’s will be done, if it be but at the end.” 

She spake slowly and with a soft precision, showing an 
unlooked-for reserve of endurance. 

“ Now!” quietly exclaimed the doctor, nodding his head 
as per pre-arranged signal. Ebba disappeared an instant 
and re-entered the room leading Arvid by the hand. They 
advanced to the bedside. The patient gazed an instant 
with a half-puzzled expression of wondering delight. 
Then she lifted her arms and with a blissful smile of inde- 
scribable tenderness said, “On this bosom, Arvid!” He 
lowly bent his head and the aged arms were clasped about 
his neck. Not a word was spoken, but a tremor of sup- 
pressed emotion was experienced by the witnesses 
of the silent spectacle. , Nor was a movement made 
or a rustle heard during its seemingly long duration ; 
but an awed relief marked its end much as we may wel- 
come a respite from even joy’s over-tension in life’s su- 
premest moments. 

” Now, indeed,” murmured the dying lady, “ is my life 
rounded with the fullness of the Father’s blessing; my 
boy is with me; he will go no more from my sight.” 

“They placed a low seat close to the bedside. There 
Arvid sat; the grandmother placed her right hand upon 
his head in the bestowal of unspeakable blessings; with the 
other she held her boy’s hand, her face smiling with ineff- 
able peace. After this the invalid motioned for the house-, 
hold to be called about her; she took, the hand of each in 
silent farewell. Then the brother and sister, standing to- 
gether by her bedside, each held a hand of their grand- 
parent; and thus just at the end of Cnristmas day came 
the earthly end of the noble old lady. 

A veil is reverently drawn over the situation of the 
domestic circle from which thus departed the personage 
embodying its ample life. Ebba had imagined herself in 
some measure prepared for an end for which she had so 
long looked forward with dread, but if possible the very 
length of her expectation aggravated the shock, as it 
widened the void of her bereavement. With all her 
increasing feebleness the Generalskan’s had been so 
abounding and weighty a presence that the world without 
her seemed to Ebba unspeakably empty and sunless. 


236 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Could it ever fill or brighten again the dreary vacancy left 
by one so intertwined with her own subtlest being ? And 
for the others? Arvid seemed filled with reverent awe in 
the shadow of that stately presence in whose real kindli- 
ness he had amplest faith, long as he had failed to ex- 
perience it, and he was oppressed with a tender sadness 
which at times was all he could bear. As for Olaf, the 
poor man’s wordless sorrow drove him to mad, aimless 
wanderings over the premises, followed by Varg with his 
puzzled comprehension of the general distress; and more 
than once in lonely places behind the farm buildings the 
rough-framed drang was discovered giving way to his 
unspoken grief with only the sympathetic dog as permitted 
witness. 

The .spirit had departed, and while the sad news was 
flying through all the country side they laid the body on 
clean straw pursuant to an ancient custom linking humble 
stable belongings with the memory of Him who was 
cradled in a manger and bedded upon straw. Then it was 
placed in the neat black coffin bearing an inscription of a 
cherished scriptural passage, and crowned with lighted 
candles. Only Arvid and Ebba, as the two nearest of kin, 
watched and prayed over the remains the first night. 
Then trusted friends gave their kindly attentions during 
the time intervening till Sunda5^ when funerals always 
then took place in Sweden. Brightly and without ceasing 
were the candles kept burning in the long interim. 

And vast is now the concourse of people gathered at the 
ancient mansion on this white Sunday morning: and 
solemnly impressive is the psalm which .swells through its 
walls while the bod}^ is being removed from under the old 
roof. As the remains are borne across the porch a plain- 
tive peal comes from the bell of the distant church, and as 
they descend the sloping lawn the gnarled limbs of Druid 
Jarl seem to reach further forth in a reverent sweep as if 
from a human impulse of family sympathy. All the way 
to the church the psalm ' is continued in the deserted 
house, and its strains are taken up by the vast procession 
and rollover the snowy hills in mournful cadence. As the 
procession nears the church again sound the bells in wel- 
coming sadness; and after the fitting Lutheran service 
such a personalia of the life of the deceased is delivered 
by the attending clergyman as touches all hearts. Then 
with further service in church and at the grave, with 
renewed tolling of bells, the body is lowered into the earth 
to the final funeral psalm; the clergyman throws in the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


237 


prescribed threeshovels of earth, and Arvid and Ebba 
filling the grave, hide from mortal view all the earthly 
remains of their venerated relative. 

The Scandinavians are not a demonstrative people. 
They make no parade of their emotions whether of joy or 
grief. With them words mean something, and the fewer 
they use the more effective the result even to the deepest 
current of silence, as against the babbling shallowness of 
talk. On this occasion they carried composed faces and 
gazed from tearless eyes, yet who may flippantly gauge 
the depth and truth and tenderness of the dispersing 
people for the loss of one who never flattered but ever 
befriended them? Certain it is that the wide country 
around was bowed low with touching grief at the passing 
away of the beloved Generalskan. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

How subdued to all sadly gentle influences were the 
hearts of brother and sister as they returned to the old 
home! All objects in-doors and out seemed to breathe 
forth the plaintive murmur “gone, gone!” The place 
was so interwoven with their childhood memories, — it 
seemed so imbued with the very soul of their departed 
grandparent, it had been so recently the wonted scene of 
Christmas merry-making, that the contrasting silence now 
seemed a palpable and boding presence. 

And the next morning as Ebba looked from her bed- 
room and saw the same sun tip the same trees, warm the 
same familiar objects and stream over the friendly 
face of the same rippling fjord— when she turned to Druid 
Jarl in its hoary stillness, turned to the red gabled farm 
buildings, to the cows and chickens and all the dear things 
comprising the make-up of her home life, the thought 
that she must descend to a vacant apartment and never 
more feel the warming sun and centre of that life — it was 
more than she could bear. The brave girl had kept up 
through all the strain of, the Christmas festivities, through 
her grandmother’s sickness, death and burial, nerved by a 
strong sense of duty, but these after-thoughts approached 
her in an unguarded moment, from an unexpected quarter, 
and there in her own chamber where she could suffer 
alone she gave way to uncontrollable weeping. 


238 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


It was her first relief of tears: she felt its easeful effect; 
anew she acknowledged the blessings left her; for “oh,” 
she asked herself, “but for Arvid’s timel}^ coining what 
would have become of us?” Now she would go down to 
that brother; there was much to live for; life was young, 
the world was before her; it was full of work and hope, as 
of joy and sorrow. Wiping her eyes she went down stairs 
and was caught in the strong arms of her brother; he 
peered enquiringly into his sister’s face ; he had had an 
experience similar to that which now oppressed her, and he 
knew how to comfort her. They mingled their sorrows 
and their hopes. They could never outgrow the kindly 
noble influences of one so deeply lamented. They would 
ever cherish her sacred memory; but they should not mor- 
bidly grieve. Life had its mission, its daily duties, and 
the world was a place for action, not for reverie. 

And first of all, Arvid’s cause for action was immediate 
and urgent; for it was hardly to be supposed that his des- 
perate enemies would cease their pursuit of him. The 
funeral solemnities had probably thus far protected him, 
as few men were so hardened as not to respect them under 
such circumstances; but he could not longer expect ex- 
emption; indeed, he half feared he had already discovered 
one of his old enemies in a sinister face among the atten- 
dants at the funeral services of the preceding day. His 
pursuers seemed determined that he should neither be 
punished nor acquitted according to law, but be ever tor- 
tured with uncertainty or shadowed with private revenge. 
Even if this were not intolerable it left him no choice but 
between flight and recourse to the old heathen law of per- 
sonal blood for blood. More than ever he loathed the 
thought of violence; he wanted no more stains upon his 
brow: and, yet, this might result in the direst last emer- 
gency. There seemed, therefore, nothing left to him but 
to again leave the country. But aside from these consid- 
erations, he confessed that he longed for the freedom and 
safety of the new world; its freshness, its scope for adven- 
ture, its glorious opportunities were more than ever luring 
to men of courage and energy; and much as he regretted 
leaving their dear Sweden he felt that he must betake him- 
self to the scenes of his former roamings beyond the 
ocean. 

Such was the substance of Arvid’s plea, which he urged 
most earnestly, but with many misgivings as to a course 
which bethought must involve a separation from his sister. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


239 


Ebba listened not only with close attention but with a 
sympathetic look of enquiry. 

Whv a separation?” she calmly enquired. 

“What means my Ebba?” Arvid asked with joyful 
surprise. ” Would you consent — have you thought, then, 
of the possibility of your going with me to New Sweden ?” 

” Aye, brother, and more; of the desirability, the wis- 
dom of such a step.” 

” The mere idea thrills me with delight: but is it other 
than a girlish whim — does it spring from some dreamy or 
romantic notion that may pass idly as it came ? Doth my 
sister know what it means to cross the ocean and live in a 
wilderness ? Hath she any real idea of its hardships, its 
dangers; and for a woman especially, the sacrifices it 
demands?” 

“I have given the matter much thought: I think I 
have counted the cost, and my ideas, though perchance 
crude, rest upon some knowledge and more study of the 
subject.” 

Her brother was surprised — more so than is the atten- 
tive reader who may chance to recall the interest evinced 
by the young lady in the migration project discussed at 
the family banquet in midsummer, or who may have 
remarked her non-worship of conservatism and her rather 
rare discernment of pertinent essentials alike in old and new 
things. Following that first talk about emigration Ebba 
had promptly written to a relative of her father residing in 
lyondon for information upon the subject. With this 
relative she had sojourned a year in her childhood, and 
she made bold to not only request that all obtainable 
information and published matter be sent her respecting 
William Penn’s settlement of his province, but to solicit 
aid in forwarding a letter she enclosed to relatives of the 
deceased grandmother supposed to be living in America 
among the original Swedish settlers at or near Altona on 
the South or Delaware river. The requested documents 
and information from London had been duly received and 
studied by Ebba, -but from her letter of enquiry to 
America she had hardly expected to hear. It had been 
directed to the descendants of Swedish members of one 
of the early colonies, who had emigrated from the 
Swedish Christinehamn and who had bestowed the name 
of their native place upon the new settlement, but from 
whom nothing had been heard for many years. With all 
the changes and uncertainties of the long interval there 
was little chance that the letter would reach its destination, 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


240 

but she had sent it experimentally with the vague hope 
that it might in time produce a result; and sure enough, 
after a six months’ errand it had brought an answer, which 
having arrived during the hurried Christmas preparations 
had not yet received much attention from Ebba, but 
which upon re-reading, was found to contain fond 
references to the friends and memories of Fatherland and 
a cordial invitation for the coming of kin and friends 
from old to New Sweden. 

Arvid made his contribution to their stock of migratory 
knowledge by telling of the great movement among the 
Quakers and the wide-spread interest and growing excite- 
ment he had found in London about the settlement of the 
great province granted to William Penn. All ranks and 
grades of people were buying land and preparing to em- 
bark for the New World. Besides his “conditions and 
concessions,’’ the Quaker proprietor had published an 
argument in favor of the general policy of colonisation to 
counteract prevalent prejudices against what had been 
thought to be only a ready means of getting rid of crimi- 
nals and' paupers. This had promoted the movement and 
the grantee was overwhelmed with business pertaining to 
his colony. For this reason and because his increasing 
followers would not be able to close their home affairs, 
Penn would not depart till spring, when a great multi- 
tude would accompany and follow him across the Atlantic. 
Meanwhile he hard dispatched his commissioners to the 
new province to make soundings and examine lands in 
order to select a suitable site upon which to settle a great 
town on the Delaware river. Penn’s high sense of right, 
his liberal and equal treatment of friends and enemies 
alike, his encouragement to poor settlers, his studied kind- 
ness to the aborigines were every day winning friends and 
helpers. His care for the rights of the natives had induced 
the rejection of an enormous sum offered him for a 
monopoly of the Indian trade. This had much increased 
the public confidence in William Penn as a just and saga- 
cious founder, and it was a growing belief that his colony 
would see both a faster and safer growth than any that had 
yet been planted in America. The thirst for knowledge 
of the new region seemed to be unlimited. When it be- 
came known that he had lived in the New World, he, Ar- 
vid, was besieged by enquirers for information respecting 
it, and had he known as much of the Lenni Lenape as 
he had acquired of the Iroquois language, he thought he 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


241 


might have found profitable employment as an interpreter 
between natives and settlers. 

Ebba lister ed with absorbed attention to her brother’s 
report of what so much caught her fancy, and the two long 
continued in earnest discussion of their future plans. As 
a suitable preparation for wise action she detailed to her 
brother the trials which the dear grandmother and herself 
had endured for years — their lessening crops and declining 
prosperity, their struggles with debt, their encounter with 
Bengt Ericson, their experience with Herr Mattson re- 
specting the mortgage indebtedness, and many other mat- 
ters which had closely concerned them. 

Arvid gave due heed to his sister’s recital. No part of 
it had before been so fully explained to him; and even now, 
touching the connection both with Bengt Ericson and the 
young man represented by Hans Mattson, the listener heard 
no more than was permitted by the pride and delicacy of 
his sister. Yet the brother heard enough respecting the 
first to send him to his feet with clouded brow and clenched 
fists, hotly venting — 

“ The sordid beast! — the amorous, calculating pretense 
of a lover! I’d like to have — ” 

“ Nay, my brother, he is scarce worthy honest indigna- 
tion.” 

“And as for the mortgage,” resumed Arvid, dropping 
his head in humbler manner, “if I’d been the fellow really 
worthy of such a sister and grandparent instead of the-roving 
heedless spendthrift I am, or was, I would have had abun- 
dance to pa}^ off the debt; as it is, but for my luckless 
shipwreck I e’en could have made shift to lend a hand 
withal.” 

” Ah, well I know the generosity of that hand and the 
warm hea,rt back of it; and thou shalt not berate m^^ Ar- 
vid; he hath but the rashness of his age and sex. When 
he shall have attained the experience and selfish prudence 
of his cool-headed sister we may look for won — ” but the 
completing words were smothered in a kiss which yet 
failed to baffle the roguish glee with which Ebba flung her 
arms about her brother’s neck. 

” And as for our treatment from others,” resumed Ebba, 
struggling in the manly embrace, ‘ ‘ let the generous for- 
bearance of the real mortgage-holder offset the meanness 
of the false one, and surely we can but rejoice at our good 
fate.” 

We may guess how far Ebba’s tinged cheek told the 
half-confessed glow of grateful pride which found delicate 
16 


243 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


seclusion in this reference to the conduct ’ of the absent 
Halvor. But we may easier guess the countless plans, the 
apt schemes for profit and pleasure, the ardent projects 
for their own and the public benefit that filled the roseate 
future 'of their new life — guess the bright hopes that 
promised in the new world to tide them over the shoals 
and dangers besetting the old. As they would begin a 
new year or turn a new leaf for a better record, they pur- 
posed to begin a new life in a new world, free from the 
clogs and besetments of the old. Their heads and hearts 
wer^ full of a purpose so rich in promise, so wide in scope. 
They could think or talk of little else; they were impa- 
tient for a beginning. 

And first of all they had agreed that Arvid’s presence 
was a ceaseless menace of further trouble from his tireless 
enemies; and that he must consequently depart at the ear- 
liest practicable moment; while in the interim they would 
carefully consult with Olaf respecting a speedy settlement 
of farm affairs, by which they hoped to forward matters 
to such a condition that all things could be adjusted 
after the brother should have gone. And so the three 
were speedily in deep and close consultation, early in the 
course of which they found that arrangements could be 
made according to their wishes. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Pursuant to their plans matters were at length so far ar- 
ranged that the time was fixed for the brother’s departure. 
The evening preceding the morning set for that event, 
Ebba fancied she caught a glimpse of a strange figure 
creeping stealthily under the hill between Druid Jarl and 
the lake. Her heart leaped, and her pulse quickened with 
new- alarm when kitchen Kama presently observed that 
“them same midsummer wagabonds was prowlin’ about 
agin’,’’ she believed. 

Ebba drew her brother aside and acquainted him with 
her fears and the grounds for them. 

‘ ' Quiet all alarm for me, little sister; I think I shall be 
too quick for the brutes. If not, I was not silly enough 
to come this time unarmed after the warnings they 
gave.’’ 


Ebb a Borjcson, 243 

“ But oh, my Arvid, how I dread the thought of more 
blood.” 

“Scarce more than does thy brother; for ’tis only this 
dread that now parts him from his sister. Nor blood shall 
there be but at their choosing; and of choice I’ll try to 
cheat them; for — ” and the speaker lowered head and 
voice instinctively as he continued — “ I shall forestall 
their day-break ambush and flit at midnight. I have ar- 
ranged with Olaf to awaken me and aid at my start. After 
that I shall out-wit and out-fight them with all my woods- 
scouting experiences. So, my Ebba, fare-thee-well and 
be off to thy bed, for I must catch a few hours’ sleep 
ere I go; here — ” 

He caught his sister in his arms and kissed her 
on each cheek, but she struggled with half-averted 
head: 

“ Nay, nay, Arvid, thinkest thou I could or would go to 
my bed and leave thee so, at our parting ? I guard with 
Olaf and retire not till thou art off; I shall bid thee farewell 
at the last.” 

“ Be it vSO, then,” and Arvid, kissing his sister upon her 
lips to punish her willfulness, turned and threw himself 
on the large sitting room lounge. With a jolly nature 
and steady nerves, the strong, healthy man was soon 
sound asleep, and his sister was his lonely watcher in the 
ancient family home. Familiar as were the old room and 
all its contents, Ebba soon began to feel oppressed with a 
peculiar sense of strangeness. How loudly the old clock 
ticked in alternation with the heavy breathing of the 
sleeper ! How she started with every creaking of doors 
within or rustle of leaves without; and presently when her 
brother, after a moment of loud snoiing subsided into 
quieter slumber, how unutterable, how feaiful was her 
loneliness ! Do what she would she could not avoid think- 
ing of the suspicious men who were lurking about the 
premises. Their dire purpose was but too evident. They 
haunted her like ghosts. They might at that instant be 
stealthily peering at her through the windows. She dared 
not look; she dared not move; she felt herself spell-bound; 
moments were lengthened to hours; she thought she must 
awaken her brother; but why ? She should not break his 
rest without cause; nor would she exhibit her girlish ner- 
vousness. She would call Olaf; but could she leave her 
seat? By strong determination she at length arose, and, 
quaking at the sound of her own steps, stole cautiously to 
Olaf’s distant room. She listened at the door; she heard 


244 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


the man’s heavy breathing. Then suddenly she imagined 
the wary ruffians might attack her brother in her absence. 

Self-reproved she hastened back. Arvid turned in his 
sleep, but slept on. How endless seemed the time till 
midnight ! 

But at last midnight approached and Ebba aroused her 
brother. Half-ashamed, she partially intimated to him how 
a strange unrest had tormented her. 

“ ’Tis but the inevitable woman lodged e’en in my 
brave little sister.” 

” Nay, I cannot but fear as the moment nears for 
parting. Would thou wert this moment e’en far from 
me.” 

” Pious wish of loving sister !” said Arvid, flinging open 
his arms. “Here goes then !” 

They held each other in a long fond embrace. 

“ Don’t forget,” the brother cried, “ we meet at Aunt 
E.’s in London in mid-lent; and now once more may the 
Father above bless and preserve my dearest Ebba and 
keep her primed with young courage; farewell !” 

Ebba pressed his hand between both of hers without 
speaking. Then Arvid seized his prepared luggage and 
stepped out upon the porch. There he was met by Olaf 
accompanied by Varg. The night was of inky darkness. 
They disappeared down the slope. Ebba lingered peering 
after them into the black void. She thought the throb- 
bing of her heart loud enough to scare the awful stillness. 
She held her breath to listen. All was quiet; she began to 
breathe freely; she turned to retire, when suddenly she 
heard the report of a pistol and a distant shout followed 
by the furious barking of a dog. Her blood was in tumult. 
Had her brother after all fallen a victim to sleepless re- 
venge ? She paced the floor with trembling knees. It 
was idle to think of sleep. She must know the end first. 
What kept Olaf? He was only to see her brother safely 
started. Would he never come back? 

After what seemed hours of this racking disquiet Ebba 
thought she heard footsteps without; they came nearer; 
they sounded at a rear door; thither she flew and Olaf 
presented himself. Yet was it Olaf? The man seemed 
dazed. They had been attacked; he had been felled and 
stunned by blows from a club. He had heard a shot in the 
struggle between Arvid and the ruffians, and he thought 
one of them was slain and Arvid had escaped; but he 
hardly knew, for he had been knocked senseless, and 
when he came to enough to know himself all was silence 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


245 


and darkness; he groped about among rocks and tangled 
brush but found no one, and even the dog had disap- 
peared. 

Here was multiplied cause for fear and perplexity; yet 
strangely enough Ebba began to feel herself grow calm. 
The suspense at least was partially over and although it 
had but yielded to dread mystery, it gave room for action. 
She would thoroughly explore the neighborhood in the 
morning and try to learn the worst. Even such a pros- 
pect of earnest work in a matter touching her sisterly feel- 
ings brought its relief. She went to her bed and found 
some hours’ rest. 

Betimes in the morning they were busy in the search. 
Aided by their neacest neighbors they explored the whole 
region for miles around. But with two da3^s’ close hunt- 
ing through dens, jungles and by-roads, especially in the 
direction Arvid had taken, nothing was discovered afford- 
ing the slightest clew to the mystery. On the evening of 
the third day Varg returned with dishevelled hair and a dirty 
and fatigued appearance. He crept with a sort of confid- 
ing movement close to the side of his mistress and whined 
as he gazed up in her face. 

“ What is it, then, Varg ?” enquired Ebba as she patted 
his head. “ Was e’er human face more speaking or 
brighter with intelligent pleading? Almost thou talkest 
in human fashion; but alas, the missing word is what now 
is most vital: poor dog, well I know thy true wish to tell 
all: there, there,” and she gently pushed him away. But 
the dog would not be put aside. Jumping up again to her 
he placed both fore-feet in her lap, gazed intentl}^ into her 
face and rubbed his head against her waist: 

“Why' Varg!” she exclaimed, thrusting him back, 

‘ ‘ hast lo.st all manners in th}^ tramp ? Thou wert not wont 
to — stay, what is this?” Her hand felt something 
hidden under the thick hair of the dog’s neck: she 
clutched it eagerly and drew forth a cord wrapped with 
paper, upon which she read the words, ''Safe on ship- 
board, after a close squeeze and devious tramp; bless the 
dog! Thine, A. BE 

“ ’Tis from Arvid,” cried Ebba, “Thank God! all 
is well with him: and thou noble Varg! we take thy 
deed as at one with thy good-will. Double blessings on 
thy heroic faithfulness, what need hast thou of speech 
withal ?” And the dog as he received her warm caresses, 
looked the proud joy which seemed too deep for utter- 


246 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


ance, following it with feats of rolling and curling about 
his mistress’ feet by way of relief to his surplus emotion. 

At last Ebba’s anxieties touching her brother’s safety 
were at an end; or if she had a lurking suspicion that the 
message borne by the dog was the device of the enemy, it 
was dispelled when the next day it was reported that the 
sneaking desperadoes had again been ' seen about the 
premises. This time their ill visages were almost wel- 
come: for she thought if their designs upon Arvid had 
not been foiled they would have no cause for still pur- 
suing him. And so it proved. The ruffians were no more 
seen about the place and matters subsided into the usual 
quiet of country routine. 

But it was neither a dull nor long winter to the inmates 
of the ancient mansion. Its venerable walls echoed with 
new life; and with the absorbing bustle of preparation the 
winter sped rapidly away. By early spring sales and 
settlements were so far effected that Ebba felt it safe to 
entrust the completion of affairs to faithful Olaf and 
depart herself at once for London. It seemed desirable 
to be in that city at an early period in order to profit by 
the first plans and movements for settling in America. 
The day was fixed, her passage engaged and the time was 
now at hand. But with her constant occupation Ebba 
found she had not contemplated what it meant to sever all 
the cherished connections of childhood. Every familiar 
object about the dear old home seemed held by a separate 
chord to her heart. The domestic animals seemed mute 
with human s^mipathy; the stern old hills looked on with 
a protesting softness of tone and the silent woods seemed 
wrapt in a hush of added solemnity. 

But how shall the parting with Olaf and Varg be fittingly 
referred to ?• Pressing the hand of the first the tears filled 
her eyes and more than performed the service of speech, 
while the strong man, with a saddened contortion of feat- 
ures, turned his head and shook with the Northman’s 
speechless emotion. With Olaf, however, Ebba cherished 
hopes of meeting again in America; for at his option, he 
was to follow across the ocean upon the final closing up of 
the old home affairs. But it was more doubtful whether she 
would ever see the faithful dog again, although it was 
hoped that .should Olaf decide to emigrate he might find it 
practicable to take Varg with him to the new world. 

As Ebba fondly lingered, tangling her fingers in his 
shaggy hair, the dog licked her hand, and the mute pathos 
of his wondering look as she said, “ farewell, dear Varg,” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


247 


was too much for the poor girl. She turned aside and 
burst into tears; and then when the dog, fearing he had in 
some way offended, pressed his head upon her knees with 
a mingled look of penitence and pleading, she felt that 
anything else was more endurable; and, springing to her 
feet she rushed to an adjoining room to take leave of 
Helga. From that immense female she received a hug 
that she never forgot; for it made every known muscle and 
bone in her body tingle with pain, while Kama’s red 
face simply deepened its tint as she gave her peculiar head- 
dip and rearward action of the foot as the most delicate 
proof of parting courtesy. 

It was a bright morning in early March upon which 
Ebba left her old home. The Swedish winter had but 
little relaxed the rigor of its grasp. Deep snow yet whit- 
ened the fields and drooped the evergreens; and while house- 
tops were bare, it was only on the knolls and pointed tops 
of woodless hills that the sweeping winds began to strip 
the brown earth of its wintry veil. Lake Maelare remained 
ice-bound, and it was everywhere crossed with the dirt- 
marked tracks deeply worn by wood and hay ,sledgings to 
winter markets. But under the growing warmth of the 
bright March sun the ice was becoming unsafe; and so 
Ebba, taking a passenger sledge to Stockholm, followed 
the winding narrow snow-road whose gleaming whiteness 
made the encompassing forest of pine and fir seem all the 
darker in the grim silence of its wintry solemnity. 

In Stockholm Ebba underwent another hard trial in part- 
ing from numberless friends. Various strong prejudices 
continued to hold sway in Sweden as in other parts of 
Europe against removing to America, a course which it 
was thought should properly be confined to outlaws, fools 
and paupers. But Ebba was as much entertained as an- 
noyed by the amusing condolences tendered her upon the 
prospect of being devoured by wild beasts and wilder men. 
The separation from a small coterie of close friends, chief- 
est of whom was the Countess B., was felt as a mutual loss 
for which it was all the keener. But through all trials 
and obstacles Ebba persevered, and at last found herself 
on- board a ship picking her outward way among the Baltic 
islands with the receding city in her rear and the widening 
sea in her front. Not yet was the strain of sad partings 
over, for although she drank in the relieving sea-breadth 
encircling the southern coast of Sweden, it was not until 
they passed Gottenburg and bore westward through the 
Skager Rack — not until the Swedish coast receded from 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


view, and they began to exchange the chilly air of Scandi- 
navia for the softening breath of the Gulf-stream, did Ebba 
experience the full crushing sense that she was leaving her 
native land forever. 

But the brave girl resolutely turned her face to that 
new land which she believed was to become not less the 
home of her heart than the hope and refuge of persecuted 
mankind . It was largely that faith that had fed her youthful 
enthusiasm to the point of starting and she felt that it 
would bear her through to the end. Small thing though 
it was she felt glad that at least the first stage of her long 
journey bid fair to be good and speedy. Every hour was 
bearing her to the warmer air of misty England, and if 
further from the bright skies of Sweden, further also from 
the biting frosts and sterility which crippled its husbandry, 
as well as from what sometimes seemed the torpor of a 
completed destiny. 

And now the ship was in the Thames and still favoring 
wind and tide were sweeping her up to London. First 
spectral masts and then the spires and chimneys of the 
great city emerged through the fog. At last the wharf is 
reached and she passes through the thronged streets, 
busier, noisier, she thought, than when she moved through 
them ten years before. And now she reaches the home 
of the aunt with whom she had lived a year in her child- 
hood. Arvid had not been there ! 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Ebba’s feelings upon hearing of her brother’s non-ap- 
pearance may be imagined. All her quieted anxieties for 
his safety for a moment were re-awakened. Had he not 
after all effected his escape, or what new mischance had 
overtaken him ? It was true the appointment with Arvid 
for mid-lent was not very precise as to time, and there 
was certainly as yet no cause for alarm. 

But a ship was to sail in a few days with emigrants for 
Penn’s colony on the Delaware. In this vessel Ebba 
greatly desired to embark; but even if she could secure 
passage at so late a day, it seemed doubtful whether she 
should attempt to go without her brother. But the ap- 
pearance of that brother at length relieved Ebba of all 
pressing anxieties. Arvid had duly reached London, but 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


249 

had been bus}^ most of the time in various ways among the 
adventurers and land buyers who wished to profit by 
Penn’s “conditions and concessions. ’’ 

And I engaged passage long ago,’’ continued Arvid, 
“ on this ship which sails next week.’’ 

“ O brother, I’m glad enough of that; I have been per- 
chance o’er anxious and impatient about our voyage and 
e’en suffered it to share my anxiety for m)' brother’s 
safety.’’ 

“ Fondly foolish sister ! Should’st have left all worri- 
ment to Arvid who never worries. Did’st receive not the 
message by the dog ?” 

“ Aye, verily, and rejoiced with prayer and praise; but 
when I found not my brother here, my fears began to — ’’ 

“ Well, well, ’twas my wonted thoughtlessness; I see I 
should have earlier reported; but I’ve been so busy with 
these adventurers; I’ll match ’em against as many women 
for asking questions. The excitement increases every 
day, and had I not secured passage in this ship e’en before 
she was advertised we could not have found room in it, so 
many and^eager are the pilgrims to the new Mecca of the 
wilderness.” 

“And hast seen their Mohammed — this Quaker Penn, 
their new prophet and leader?’’ 

‘ ‘ As many times e’en as have been the weeks since we 
parted. And a busier man is not in all England. He had 
thought to embark for his Province e’en last autumn, but 
the multiplying enquires and applications forced him to 
delay his departure till this spring; and now, methinks, he 
is more than e’er o’erwhelmed with his concerns, insomuch 
that I see not how he can get away, at least before mid- 
summer, although he daily grows impatient to go to his 
great domain. I hav^e sometimes heard these Quakers 
called ignorant, as a cause, not less than consequence, of 
their silence, but the numberless intelligent enquiries they 
make of an}^ one who hath actually visited the new region 
argue that they talk less for talk’s sake than for a purpose 
beyond it.’’ 

‘ ‘ But about what specially are so many enquiries made 
of my brother?’’ 

“Oh, then, about the soil, the words, the hills, the 
meadows, the brooks, the minerals and all else concerning 
the new land; and of late, especially about the great town 
to which Penn ever looks forward with fraternal hope, the 
site of which hath been fixed upon and of which the 
plantation of the Swedish brothers Swenson will form a 


250 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


part. Word comes that the survey of the new town pro- 
ceeds apace and the interest therein is quickened day by 
day.” 

Ebba’s face glowed with what had long fed her imagi- 
nation and was absorbing so much public attention in En- 
gland. As usual, with youthful enthusiasts, the cherished 
project grew richer in promise as it was pursued with 
golden hope; and even in less glowing moments the sub- 
ject so expanded with what it fed upon that it was difficult 
to keep it within reasonable bounds, or even to admit of 
its possessing any but a favorable aspect. With the en- 
grossing ideal came her craving to begin its realization. 
The grandest projects have their tardy beginnings, their 
weary hindrances, their crown and fulfillment. The 
smallest of the first this might be, but she felt that it was 
at least a beginning when the}'^ found themselves on ship- 
board. They lay at anchor in the Thames. Their vessel 
was awaiting the noon change of tide to drop down and be- 
gin its long vo\mge. Already the earliest crowd was be- 
ginning to lessen in fishy Billingsgate, and the crossing 
throngs on London Bridge were adding to the later day- 
din of the great city. 

But London yet la}^ dim under its morning veil of fog, 
and its reviving tumult was more heard than seen from 
mid-river. Ebba and her brother stood on the quarter- 
deck peering through the mists. Gradually object after 
object was dimly outlined through the shoreward gloom, 
and later the old historic Tower thrust its grim outlines 
against the leaden sky. And now a more engrossing 
spectacle claims their attention; boat-loads of people are 
coming to their ship to bid farewell to departing friends. 
It is a scene of deepU^ touching interest, and for most of the 
actors, a final parting from home and kindred. As the 
hour of departure approaches the arrivals grow more fre- 
quent and the departures more saddening. They turn the 
thoughts of brother and sister to the deserted home in 
Sweden, and Ebba’s reverie is so softened with tender 
memories that she can bear it no longer; but as she turns 
away she catches a view of an approaching boat bearing a 
more numerous party to their waiting vessel. With the 
dispersing fog it is soon apparent that the new party is 
comprised entirely of Quakers, among whom Ebba’s at- 
tention is arrested by two marked figures, one of whom is 
recognized as a chief and leading personage. As they 
climb slowly up the ship’s side, the face of this man of 
prominence seems strangely familiar to her. In it a cer- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


251 


tain classical delicacy of feature verging to eifeminacy was 
checked by a firmness of expression verging to obstinacy, 
while its spiritual exaltation and especially a union of 
youthful ardor with shrewd sedateness were too remarkable 
to be forgotten. Surely, she thought, she had somewhere 
seen that face before; but where? Arvid turned a look of 
enquiry upon his sister’s puzzled countenance. 

“ Can’st guess,” he asked, “who it is?” 

” Nay, not guess, but really I should e’en know; for 
surely have I seen it before. So much is beyond question, 
but when and where I ever looked upon it is beyond 
my—” 

” Yet stay,” and the lady checked herself upon 
a sudden turn of the stranger’s face, which recalled 
the memory of a Sunday morning hubbub vShe had wit- 
nessed in Gracechurch street during her former residence 
in London. 

“ I have it,” she continued, turning to her brother with 
that exultant mixture of dazed wonder and satisfaction 
which accompanies the sudden breaking in of new light 
upon us. 

“Yes,” said Arvid, “that elegant gentleman in 
the plain garb of the Quaker is none other than William 
Penn.” 

“ Oh, it all comes to me now,” returned Ebba ; “I re- 
member as ’twere yesterday, though ’twas nearly eleven 
years ago, that aunt and I being belated to church one 
Sunday morning were hastening on as best we might when 
we came to a great crowd of people mostly Quakers, gath- 
ered in front of their meeting-house which had been closed 
against them by the authorities; and I remember as we 
tried to pass on through the crowd this same man stood in 
their midst addressing them, when a company of soldiers 
arrested him and one of his companions, which made a 
great disturbance among the people, although the sufferers 
and their friends took it in all meekness.” 

“And the persecuted of that day is this day pro- 
prietor, patriarch and patron, whose favor is sought by 
all.” 

“ Even punishing his enemies by kindness,” added 
Ebba; “ ’tis surely a sweet, because Christian revenge. 
But tell me, Arvid, who is the other of the central 
couple, who seems to be in close companionship with 
Penn ?” 

“That I cannot; I know not his name though 
oft I’ve seen him in busy consultation with Penn 


252 Ebb a Borjeson. 

and others concerned in the settlement of the Pro- 
vince.” 

The enquiry pertained to the second of the two men 
who had first attracted Hbba’s notice among the boat-load 
of Quakers. He was of somewhat shorter stature than 
Penn, with a noticeably large head and square massive 
physique, which seemed the embodiment of strength; and 
although he was some years younger than his companion 
his steadier appearance and quieter manners made him 
seem older, while there was much of the same mingled 
force and gentleness in facial expression as marked that of 
the Quaker leader. With a small map spread before them 
the two men continued a conversation which was repeat- 
edly interrupted by the numberless demands upon Penn’s 
attention. With the firing of the first gun preparatory to 
the ship’s departure the consultation ceased. 

“Nay, Caleb,” said Penn, arising, “in all things per- 
taining thereto I repose faith in thy good judgment and I 
particularly approve thy suggestion that as the mill is for 
the convenience of the public, its site be selected, 
if possible, at the boating head of a navigable 
stream where its tide meets its descending current; for at 
such place, at least until roads be built, the greater num- 
ber must reach it by boat; and I trust thou may’st find a 
spot thus available.” 

“ And thou wilt follow, when?” asked the other. 

“ I fear me that my multiplied concernments may con- 
tinue to detain me e’en beyond the time last fixed for my 
departure, but in any event we will hope soon to complete 
the arrangement by which the superstructure may be fitted 
and framed in all readiness here and then shipped in 
charge of Richard Townsend, to be by him set up upon 
the site thou may’st select.” 

“ Are matters in such state of forwardness that I may 
judge when to look for the prepared superstructure?” 

“ I fear not; the project thou knowest is but newly be- 
gun, and the shares are not yet all subscribed. We will 
proceed with due deliberation, and we are liable to unfore- 
seen obstacles; but with all delays I trust by another year 
at furthest our mill may be in successful operation. And 
now, dear friends,” continued Penn, as he turned to his de- 
parting comrades who stood in waiting, ‘ ‘ time adnionish- 
eth e’en as God disposeth, and we may not tarry as we 
would — farewell;” and the great Moses of Quakerism, 
taking them in succession by the hand as he bade them 
adieu, spoke a few parting words to each with that name- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


253 


less commingling of courtly grace and fatherly cordiality 
which so greatly added to his power among men. At the 
conclusion of the separate leave-taking Penn addressed to 
the emigrants collective!}’- a few cheery sentences of advice 
and encouragement, promising with Divine permission to 
soon meet them in the new land of faith and hope where 
all should ever be welcome to worship according to the 
dictates of conscience, and where they hoped to promote 
unmolested the brotherhood of man and the glory of God. 
As the speaker closed with one of those impressive bene- 
dictions with which he was wont to conclude his addresses, 
more than one of the grave faces were seen to quiver and 
turn away with half-concealed emotion. 

Ebba and her brother watched the solemn scene with 
sympathetic interest. At length the final signal gun cuts 
short the kindly interchanges between parting friends; all 
other than the ship’s registered passengers quietly descend 
to the waiting yawls and push back to the shore ; the crew 
spring to the order to weigh anchor; they join in a cheery 
chorus of voice and motion as they slowly lift the pon- 
derous fetter from its muddy bed; they spring into the rig- 
ging for the ordered sail adjustments and at last the vessel 
actually begins to move dowm the stream. 

Gradually the dark city disappeared under lowering 
skies. After passing Greenwich and Woolwich objects 
began to grow dim on the widening shores, and night shut 
down before they had merged far toward the meeting sea. 
At dawn they had rounded through the straits of Dover, 
but as they entered the English channel they encountered 
strong head winds and a rough sea. Ebba awakened with 
nauseating dizziness. It was her first experience of sea- 
sickness since her visit to England in childhood. The 
weather grew worse, and for three days she lay prostrate 
in her berth. During this time the ship made slow pro- 
gress in beating about the channel. On the fifth day out 
the winds veered, the sea grew calmer, and as the sails 
swelled with a more favoring breeze the ship began 
to steady to better speed. Ebba ventured upon deck. 
They were passing Land’s End, which was yet dimly dis- 
cernable over the rear starboard. It was their last view 
of England. The Old lay behind, the New before her. 
The one had tested her young life with trial; of the other 
could she expect less in its untried vastness ? Certainly 
not, her reason coldly suggested, but the twin faeries, 
Youth and Hope, sat at the exhaustless fountain of her 


254 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


full heart, and what recked they of doubt or fear when 
Faith gave courage and buoyed with promise ? 

Tottering to the starboard Ebba continued leaning over 
the gunwale watching the receding shore. Except that 
purple line of fast-fading land all was a stretch of 
immeasurable ocean. In its varying moods she felt a 
strange fascination She watched its dark surgings, its 
gracefully whitening curvatures, its wildly laughing 
pranks coquetting with the furies or heaving in surly 
restiveness of power. And all its freaks provoked 
musings. Was this moody monster typical of human life? 
Did it not rather shame the paltriness of human aims and 
powers? Or was it scorn of man’s limitations and con- 
tempt of his conventional pettiness ? And yet not wholly 
alien to human kind seemed old ocean in any mood; for, 
grand in his freedom, his might, his mystery, was he less 
luring in his fearful beauty, his mighty harmony ? 

The wind had been rapidly freshening and a choppy sea 
was sobering into longer billows which occasionally swept 
over the ship’s decks. Ebba taking timely warning 
turned to leave her position. But in the inspiration of her 
surroundings she forgot the wasting effect of her sickness 
and fasting; she found her steps unsteady and her brain in 
a whirl, when by a sudden lurch of the ship she lost her 
balance and was driven headlong toward a sharp-edged 
fixture against which she would have been violently 
dashed but for a strong pair of intercepting arms, 
in whose kindly embrace she suddenly found her- 
self. 

“ Poor child !” spoke a low, soft voice from the owner 
of the arms. ‘ ‘ I have noted thy pale face and thy lone 
musings, and methinks this exposed deck is scarce the 
place for thee.” 

‘ ‘ Kind sir, oh much I thank — but who then is my pre- 
server ?’ ’ 

” Nay, merely thy observer.” 

” A kind and vigilant one truly, else I had been 
cruelly hurt. I crave your pardon, sir, but I would 
gladly learn to whom I am indebted for 'so good and 
timely a turn.” 

“’Twas but an offered chance to a passing friend 
who urgeth that thou be first secure against further 
mischance.” 

He still held her in Tiis firm grasp; and so, by steadying 
her steps and partly carrying her, she was moved to a 
more protected part of the deck. Ebba struggled for a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


255 


view of her chance friend, and as she was at length 
securely seated she turned and saw the fave of that 
companion of Penn who with the Quaker leader 
had attracted her attention among the friends at the Lon- 
don embarkation. 

“Oh, now I know,” she impulsively exclaimed, “at 
least I have chanced upon part of the name of the real 
friend who hath served me;” and Ebba slightly colored 
with her possible impertinence as she added, “ for I over- 
heard your chief, William Penn, call you ‘friend Caleb’ 
the day we left London.” 

“My name is Caleb Pusey,” replied the other with 
quiet dignity. 

She waited with the hope of further disclosures 
from her chance friend but he remained silent, 
while turning an occasional glance of kindly concern upon 
her. 

“ And more than that,” persisted Ebba, feeling oddly 
emboldened by the frank footing of their chance meeting, 

‘ ‘ I know you must be a special friend of your great apostle 
Penn and entrusted with some important mission in the 
new Province.” 

“ I am charged with the selection of a suitable 
site whereon to erect a corn mill,” observed the o'ther 
wdth a quiet smile, as he watched the flattering enthusiasm 
of his young companion. 

“ Oh, I long to know more of your scheme of coloniza- 
tion — of this great enterprise of planting a new state in the 
wilderness. And above all I would learn more of the relig- 
ion which hath inspired it.” 

‘ ‘ There is little to learn, for it pertaineth rather 
to the heart than the head; and we are taught 
much as children are taught, who feel ere they 
think.” 

“ But your creed?” enquired Ebba. 

“ None have we.” 

“ No profession of faith?” 

“ We try to follow Christ, who required no profes- 
sions. According to the injunctions He gave and the 
living example He left, so strive we to live and act among 
men.” 

“Than which there is truly no holier striving. Yet 
how can the sinful find new birth— how can untaught man 
distinguish between good and evil?” 

“ By that true light which lighteth every man that 
cometh into the world. In every human being the Crea- 


256 


Ebba Borjeson. 


tor lodgeth the divine spark of quenchless life. It is this 
that forms man in the divine image and distinguishes him 
from the brute: it is his unerring guide — the germ of infi- 
nite life, just as every seed hath within it its own principle 
of finite life.” 

“Ah, but how distinguish this inward prompting from 
animal instinct, from gross brutal lust? How can you be 
sure that it is more than the impulse of self-seeking — 
more than the promptings of vanity, of conceit, of preju- 
dice ?” 

” How indeed but by striking away all that interferes 
with the direct intercourse between the soul and its maker; 
by getting into the quiet and excluding earthly distrac- 
tions; and so, by disburdening the soul of worldly con- 
cernmients, court spiritual visitation and wait upon the in- 
ward monitor, the still small voice of that Father who 
never deserteth any of his children or leaveth them in 
darkness.” 

” How? Do all men, then, even cannibals, possess this 
inward light ?” 

” Even so; from no being in the divine image is it with- 
held, for it is the seed of salvation promised to all. But 
like unto most of our blessings it may be made much or 
little of; it may be well-nigh smothered to extinction or fan- 
ned into a bright saving flame, according to the inclinations, 
the ignorance or knowledge, the opportunities or depriva- 
tions of men. And this, withal, constitutes much of the 
difference between the sinful and the righteous, and the 
ground of human hope as well; for while there is life even 
in the remotest isles of savage men there may be that un- 
covering of the divine spark, be it e’er so hidden, as may 
kindle to the life everlasting.” 

” And hence you recognize Christ’s command to go into 
every land and preach the gospel?” 

” Aye, the gospel He preached — the gospel of love and 
charity and human fellowship, the gospel of persuasion, 
not persecution — the gospel which seeks at home and 
abroad to re-kindle the buried light and open the blind 
eyes of our fellow men; which would free them from ig- 
norance and superstition and acquaint them with them- 
selves and each other as members of a common brother- 
hood; the gospel of peace and good-will to men as a first 
condition and overture to them, not as following their 
ruthless conquest. Nothing in man’s strange career is 
more incomprehensible than that professed followers of 
Christ should seek to enforce by the sword His gentle 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


257 


injunction to put up the sword; that they should butcher 
men into obedience to the command ‘ thou shalt not kill,’ 
and pitilessly spread misery and destruction in the pro- 
fessed service of Him who taught us to love onr enemies. 
It is matched only by the folly of evolving a perplexing 
theology about Him who taught only the simple things 
which children may comprehend and by the hypocritical 
vain glory of rearing brazen temples lavish with idle dis- 
play wherein to worship Him who enjoined humility in all 
things, who was himself poor and despised, and often had 
not whereon to lay his head. How far the people called 
Quakers shall reform these abuses remains for the world 
to judge. They have no theology to master and they make 
no parade of profession or practice; but at least they will 
shroud neither in mystery; they will not persecute or pun- 
ish any in return for the sufferings they have endured; 
they will practice no cruelties; they will offer civil and re- 
ligious liberty to friend and foe alike; they will seek to 
make their domain an asylum for the poor and perse- 
cuted of all mankind; and first of all, they will satisfy by 
peaceful purchase the just claims of the original posses- 
sors of their new land. With such purposes and upon 
such a footing we hope to construct such a society in the 
wilderness as may win a measure of Divine favor and be- 
come worthy of that infinite love which embraceth the 
poor and helpless not less than the rich and powerful: and 
so by timely growth in goodness and grace to promote 
human well-being and set forth the glory and honor of 
God the Father of all.” 


CHAPTER XXXYI. 

The growing fervor of the theme gradually seduced 
the speaker from his guarded sedateness of tone and Ebba 
found herself unconsciously absorbed in both. She had 
not before so well marked his massive breadth of brow 
and particularly a certain mild radiation of deep lines 
from a facial centre of luminous hazel eyes, which 
altogether conveyed a singularly pleasant expression 
of united force and gentleness. She was about to ask 
another question as to one of the many points of growing 
interest to her when her companion, smiling to some one 
motioning him unseen, said, 

17 


258 


Ebb a Borj^son. 


“Stay a moment, please,” and quietly left her. In a 
few moments he returned. 

“ Wilt thou come below?” he enquired. 

Ebba bowed and was assisted to the cabin. 

“ This is my wife, Ann Pusey,” he said; “ and this our 
daughter Ann. And my dear, this is — is — But thou 
did’st not tell me thy name,” he said, turning to Ebba. 

“ Borjeson,” said the latter, “ Mamsell Borjeson.” 

“So doubtless thou art usually called, but perchance 
thou wilt not deem me impertinent if I enquire for thy 
first or given name.” 

“Oh no, sir,” replied Ebba smiling; “my name is 
Ebba — Ebba Borjeson.” 

“I am pleased that Ebba Borjeson and my wife and 
daughter are met. I wish their acquaintance to grow to 
mutual comfort and edification.” 

Quiet greetings were exchanged and the party were at 
once on an easy footing of frank intercourse. The wife 
was a delicate woman of about twenty-five years of age, 
with a pale tender face. She lay upon a lounge bolstered 
with pillows which were at times adjusted by her hus- 
band. In the countenance of the sick wife there was an 
angelic sweetness and her voice, manners and belongings 
were pervaded by such ineffable peace — such a subtle 
tone of gentleness and purity as Ebba thought she 
had never encountered in anything human before, while 
the little girl of five years seemed a winning promise 
and shadow of the mother. 

While Ebba was thus occupied with her new acquaint- 
ances her brother was busy recounting his American ad- 
ventures to a group of wondering listeners. With such a 
theme, indeed, Arvid never lacked a ready audience, and 
many times it was resumed to the mutual delight of 
speaker and hearers during the voyage. And so the days 
sped rapidly on, and all the while the favorable omens 
seemed to accompany them. It was destined, indeed, not- 
withstanding its stormy beginning, to be one of the most 
speedy and prosperous of the many trips of that voyaging 
year to the Delaware. With favoring winds they were 
now bearing away for the Azores, from which islands they 
were to take a more westerly course across the Atlantic 
in lieu of the old roundabout voyage by way of the West 
Indies. 

On this more direct course they had made good prog- 
ress, and upon their fifth week out were past mid-ocean. 
Ebba made much of her new acquaintances, the Puseys, 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


259 


and they, of her. With the opportunities thus afforded 
she repeatedly sought conversation with friend Caleb re- 
specting the principles of Quakers and the plans and pros- 
pects of “ Friends ” in the new land. One day, while her 
brother was occupied as usual in entertaining others with 
glowing talk of what he had seen in the Kew World, 
Ebba sought out her staid acquaintance, who had just re- 
assured himself of his wife’s comfort. 

“ Mr. Pusey,” she said, “I fanc}^ there was much of the 
ready-made Quaker in me always, in spite of the strict- 
ness of my Lutheran nurture; for from childhood I have 
been swayed by strong inward promptings which seemed 
quite other than ordinary childish impulses; but they often 
caused a wayward propensity which imposed severe trials 
and were a source of anxiety alike for my guardian and 
myself. For in spite of myself I seemed to persist not only 
against the wishes and apparently good advice of friends, 
but sometimes in defiance of the requirements of society 
and the precepts and rules of our church; yet withal I was 
not conscious of committing any real wrong. Think you 
such impulses can be safely trusted ? If not wilful or 
perverse, they are surely too moody and fickle to be fol- 
lowed. Is there — can there be aught so reliable as the 
Holy Scriptures for our guidance, whether in faith or 
action ?” 

“ Perhaps not, could we read and feel them aright: but 
our difficulty is not thus relieved; for the scriptures come 
to us through faulty human interpretation, and they are as 
variously rendered and understood even among well-mean- 
ing men as there are varieties of religious and moral per- 
ceptions and degrees of the human understanding. The 
Bible is a wonderful collection of writings — a priceless vol- 
ume which in the highest sense is justly termed the book 
of books; yet it would be unjust to its sacred character 
not to remember that it was written in strange and differ- 
ent languages, at many different times, by different men 
with different missions and degrees of inspiration; that its 
writings pertain to different epochs, conditions and devel- 
opment of a rude, benighted, headstrong race of oriental 
people with glowing imagination and flowery language, 
and that in its different translations bad work must have 
been made of their metaphors, parables and proverbs often 
u.sed as much for illustration as for literal statement. For 
poetry, beauty and tenderness — as an epitome of human 
destiny with its trials and yearnings, the Bible is the 
world’s foremost volume; nor when duly comprehended 


26 o 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


and wisely used is the book less a repository of Truth and 
the support of piety and virtue. But to show how little it 
can furnish alone the unerring pathway to truth, righteous- 
ness or salvation it is only necessary to remember how 
constantly it has been made to block rather than advance 
human welfare — how it has been quoted to perpetuate the 
grossest ignorance, to authorize the fiercest crimes and 
cruelties, and to justify human bondage and every species 
of enormity known to human wickedness. Far better, 
safer, is it to interpret the letter by the spirit — to read the 
visible word by the light of that invisible monitor which 
abideth in every human soul. That is first and high- 
est; for God is a spirit, shedding the light eternal 
within us; by that light we judge the Bible and all things 
else reaching us through man; we know the word by the 
spirit, not the spirit by the word, even as we take Truth 
for authority, not authority for Truth. The one co-meth 
directly from God; the other through the devious and 
doubtful mediation of man. This is the vital spirit — the 
the very essence of so-called Quakerism; all else is mere 
arrangement and detailed outgrowth therefrom. And 
that truth thus known by the spirit is to us the law above 
all human authority, for whose sake we are content to 
suffer.” 

Ebba was visibly moved by the suppressed ardor of the 
sober-speaking man; though little demonstrative in voice 
or gesture, it seemed to her more eloquent than the 
copious utterings of the most graceful speech. Without 
being convinced she was aroused with new interest and 
bent upon hearing more. 

” But I see not withal,” she replied, “how you can tell 
the inward voice from the promptings of the evil 
one; how distinguish it always from vain fancy or 
wilful desire, or from some innocent, but idle longing.” 

“No one ever was or can be so confounded save by 
courting self-deception; no one who honestly seeks to un- 
cover and not bury the light — who waits upon the inward 
voice in all humility, and who heeds as he hears, can be 
mistaken in the voice that speaketh to the lowest and the 
light which shineth for all. Wherever there hath been 
apparent misguidance, a permitted film blurred the vision 
or some stealthy self-seeking silenced the voice. With 
fair seeming there be divers ways whereby men play false 
with themselves and palter with the Infinite Father who 
beareth patiently with all. I cannot judge of the exper- 
iences which gave thy mind anxious concern, but from thy 


Ebb a Borjesoji. 


261 


eager desire for light and thy pure delight in simple truth, 
I feel that thine were Divine promptings; for they led 
thee aright and have profited thee much. Dear child, 
who indeed was ever actually unable to choose between 
the good and evil voice; for in all is not the guiding light 
which created man, truly the redeeming Son in spiritual 
oneness with that interceding Christ who avowed ever 
his kinship with God and man ?” 

A smile of thankful pleasure glowed in Ebba’s face at 
the fatherly tone of the speaker, while the gladness of 
kindred experiences prompted the query: 

“ Do not Quakers pray and ask blessings in silence as 
do we Swedes ?” 

“ They do chiefly; and it is better so, for we thus less 
deceive ourselves and are the more watchfully prepared to 
know and heed the divine communings uncajoled by our 
own voiceful vanities. Audible prayer is more to in- 
fluence man than the Father, obviously and properly so; 
we cannot move God with spoken words, for He is im- 
movable — at least by noisy persuasion.” 

” How? is not he moved to mercy?” 

” Not by spoken words, but by repentant hearts and re- 
newed strivings for righteousness; ’tis the thing itself, 
not the sound or semblance thereof that is the vital re- 
quirement.” 

“ But are not we bidden to ask and we shall receive?” 

” And dost thou not know how truer the heart asks than 
the lips? Thinkest thou the Father is deceived? Knoweth 
he not alway how much is back of the words — whether 
they be the true petition of the secret inner soul, or 
as sounding brass ? Can our poor weak voices make 
God hear when he would not else ? And if they could, 
knoweth not our Father what is best for us without 
our asking ?” 

” Why pray at all, then ?” 

“Why, indeed, but to influence our fellows as before 
stated; and so in helpful unison strive to come nearer the 
Father; for prayer is but a consecration to Truth, the 
better to know ourselves and prepare to do God’s will — 
to the which end quietness more than noise conduceth.” 

” But you are not always silent in your services?” 

‘‘No: it is as the spirit moveth; upon that we wait. 
Sometimes Friends are strongly moved to speak; for 
it seemeth needful for its effect upon ourselves, to be more 
at one with each other that we may grow in brotherly 
concord, promote unity and wise concert of action and so 


262 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


become attuned and strengthened to bear the cross in a 
common testimony. For we are social beings, and 
whether in poverty or power of the spirit, need the aid of 
that wide brotherly love through which we may prove our 
faith by our works.” 

“Truly I ne’er doubted that Friends give up themselves 
to a devout life,” said Ebba, “and shameful and wicked 
is it that while actually obeying God’s commands you 
should still be charged with despising his word by exalt- 
ing your notions above his holy scriptures. ’ ’ 

“Regarding that I would observe that while Friends 
know the truth of scriptures through the testings of Di- 
vine Light the professing world has fixed their authority 
by a show of hands in assemblages of fallible men whose 
work has been interpreted by man-made saints and shaped 
by annotating scholars to various conclusions. Which 
shall prove to have been the preferable mode of determin- 
ing the actual word of God must be judged by their re- 
spective results, even as a tree is judged by its fruits.” 

“ I should not be long,” replied Ebba, “ in deciding for 
myself had I more comprehension of, or faith in, this in- 
ward light which you say is the kernel of Quakerism ; and 
after all is it anything more or other than conscience?” 

“It differeth from conscience as the whole differeth 
from a part, as the positive differeth from the negative, as 
rest stops short of action or a spark fails of being a flame. 
It includeth conscience, but conscience alone is often 
coldly restrictive, its province being more to limit than 
inspire, whereas the inward light exalteth to self-abnega- 
tion and impels to do and dare all for Divine Truth; it in- 
cites us to seek power through Humility, to find our life 
by losing it in the Saviour’s service. It is that which con- 
forms us to the Divine image and lends creative power to 
the immortal products of poet, painter and workers of 
great things; it is the imperishable link between the cre- 
ator and His creatures, the quenchless flame which insures 
kinship with the Almighty Father and makes us heirs of 
the life everlasting. But, dear child, what signifieth it to 
dilate upon that of which the mere intellect cannot take 
cognizance, which must be felt to be known, and through 
which I believe that thee and all true souls since the 
world began have at times experienced the unsearchable 
riches of Divine Life.” 

With the closing words the earnest Quaker paced the 
deck in thoughtful silence, while to Ebba the limitless 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


263 


sky and ocean, deepening at once with meaning and 
mystery, brought an inspiring sense of kindly infinitude. 

And so the days passed rapidly away. Their ship had 
just begun the sixth week of her voyage and most of the 
passengers were weary enough of the ceaseless view of 
only sky and sea; but Ebba, occupied with her discussions 
and the weird fellowship of the changeful clouds ^nd 
grandly surging sea, had scarceE^ yet felt the tedium of the 
voyage. She had felt some disappointment with both the 
sunrise and sunset on the ocean, as the most golden prom- 
ise too often dissolved into sodden and formless cloud- 
masses, but these seemed to improve with their westward 
progress, and when at length the sun went down amid a 
gorgeous emblazonment of sky and sea, it was hailed as 
auspicious of the brighter land to which they were going. 

With glowing hopes they sought their berths that night 
and with gladder hearts left them in the morning when 
there rang out from the lookout in the foretop, the joyous 
shout of “land ahead !“ 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

The contagious stir following the sunrise cry that ran 
through the ship tested the Quakerly equipoise of its pas- 
sengers. Old and young, the hopeful and the sorrowing 
were at once lifted to a common pitch of glad anticipation. 
The ailing rose from their beds, the feeble felt a throb of 
new energy and all alike eagerly crowded the forecastle for a 
sight of the new land. For a time nothing could be seen 
but the same distant meeting of sea and sky upon which 
their weary gaze had so long rested ; but with long spy- 
glasses their larboard range soon disclosed a low belt of 
purple, stretching along the dim horizon. That it was 
land they saw became more certain with the advancing 
day, and before night they sailed through a wide opening 
between approaching points on the shore, inside of which 
they still faced an open sea forward. They were in Dela- 
ware Bay ! Anchoring over night, at early dawn they re- 
sumed their upward course. Dim shores on either hand 
gradually approached as they advanced and at length a . 
cluster of houses could be seen peeping from the trees in 
the forward distance; the ship fired her signal gun and 
slowly they neared the little town of New Castle. Eagerly 


264 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


the emigrants lined the gunwale to gaze at the land and 
trees and all the novel objects that met their querying 
eyes. It was early in May, and the verdant beauty and 
soft landward odors that greeted them were indescribably 
grateful to their sea- weary hearts. To Ebba it was all a 
revelation. Were ever such colors, she queried — were 
ever delicacy and luxuriance so happily blended ? All 
vegetation seemed jocund with an unimagined freshness, 
with a scented redundance born of countless ages of na- 
ture’s untaxed bounty. And marvelous the change ! 
Snow banks in leafle.ss old Sweden; riotous verdure in 
blossoming New Sweden. 

And yet was there something lacking withal in this fair 
picture of virginal nature ? Ebba hardly knew or dared 
confess what she missed, but she found herself uncon- 
sciously looking for bluffs and rocks; and must she con- 
fess that in these universally low, sloping and muddy 
shores, however rich and vernal, there w^as no suggestion 
of the kissing of bold shore and plashing water which 
dear Sweden brought fondly to her mind ? 

But she had not long to indulge these fancies, for her 
attention was soon drawn to the crowd now fast gathering 
on the shore and rowing out to the ship in boats. When 
in front of the town their vessel let go her anchor, and 
while the crew lined the yards to furl the sails the welcom- 
ing people from the shore clambered up from their boats, 
and soon the white-haired Swedes and short jolly Dutch- 
men mingled with broad-hatted Quakers in drab short 
clothes, and great and warm were the greetings to the 
new. comers with the hurried interchange of various talk. 
Ebba and her brother were the only Swedish passengers 
on the ship, and odd enough it was to them to hear the 
broken mother tongue confused with strange Dutch 
words and random phrases rudely conglomerated into a 
resemblance to the fast dominating English ! And queer 
enough, too, was the appearance of the little town, with its 
mixture of steep-pitching Swedish roofs, Dutch gables 
and the more pretentious English houses with their then 
ruling style of ridge or hip-roofs. As the largest and oldest 
continuous settlement, as well as the home of the resident 
Governor, New Ca.stle was then the most important town 
on the river. Its growth began to crowd over its one 
broad strand oa tha river front and a f^w buildings could 
be seen rising from a parallel street newly laid out in the 
rear. 

In more than one of the hearty welcomers Arvid found 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


265 


old acquaintances, with whom he exchanged jolly greet- 
ings, but he kept scanning the river around the ship and 
toward the shore as if looking for some one in particular. 
Presently he caught sight of a yacht making deviousl}^ 
toward them against the wind. With a sudden yell 
which startled all about him Arvid threw up his hat. 

“Ship ahoy there!’’ he shouted, “Where away now? 
Hurrah, Uncle Gabe, here we are ; this way.’’ 

“Aye, aye, prezactly,’’ came the quaint reply over the 
water. “ Bedder vhistle mit der vind und I gome vaster 
den.’’ 

“ How now, call you this seamanship, to be poking out 
here so late ?’’ 

‘ ‘ Sea-vomanship maype hof 3^ou doan brett}" much mind, 
for de fraus dey pother me mit much tings und de fickle 
vinds dey chop und balk mit me like der frau deyvils all 
te vhile a’ ready maype; — but who ye vas now, eh?’’ 

“ Why Arvid, — you hav’nt forgotten — I mean Erland,’’ 
said he, checking himself as he bethought him of his 
assumed name. 

“ Donner und blitzen ! I taught you don’t. vas come no 
more.’’ 

“ Nay, then, you don’t get rid of me so easily.’’ 

“ Nor vants to, or my name vas no more Gabriel Van 
Onkelbach;’’ and the speaker chuckled to himself in glee- 
ful gusto as his yacht’s bow touched the ship. 

“Just the queerest, noblest, best fellow,’’ whispered 
Arvid to those around him, “ and the biggest-hearted 
Dutchman in seven kingdoms. He’s ever3'body’s facto- 
tum in the settlement and country-side, and withal the, 
best scholar on the river.’’ 

All e3^es were turned downward to an uncouth figure 
with but one arm and a limping step, and at the same in- 
stant there looked up from under a slouched hat a 
broad fat face to which no mere description can do real 
justice. United to careless jollity there was a certain soft 
precision expressed by firml3^ compressed lips surmounted 
by a pair of roguish e3"es which flooded the whole face 
with such soulful good nature as to be little checked by a 
flitting suggestion or lurking signs of will power. 

“Ready, Uncle Gabe, in a moment,’’ said Arvud. “Will 
somebody lend a hand here?’’ he continued, as he seized a 
ponderous clothes chest. 

“Why, brother, do we land here?’’ asked Bbba, “ I 
thought we were to go to Altona, the olden Christine- 
hamn. ’’ 


266 


Ebba Borjeson. 


“There we go; but ’tis a little inland on the Christina 
above. The ship is bound to Upland, and this is our dis- 
embarking place.” 

Then came hurried leave-taking and Ebba found that 
it was not easy to part without trial from those with 
whom she had mingled freely for many weeks. 

“ Thou art near my heart, I find,” said Caleb Pusey as 
he held her hand at parting, “and I earnestly hope I 
may see thee again. Our friendly intercourse hath caused 
me scarce less profit than pleasure ; and I trust there may 
be suitable occasion to renew it.” 

Ebba would have briefl}^ responded, but she was sur- 
prised with a sudden choking of the throat. 

“Oh, we’ll come to see you,” said Arvid; “Uncle 
Gabe 'll take us, I know.” 

“Yaw, Mynheer,” responded that worthy; “ I takes 
you anytimes und anywh — ,” but he was suddenly silenced 
by the sight of Ebba's moist red eyes; for a sobbing or 
suffering woman was something that the big fellow with a 
tough body and tender heart never could stand. 

“ But where may we find you, Mr. Pusey?” enquired 
Arvid, by way of relieving his sister. 

“ That cannot now be answered with certainty, but 
somewhere, I hope, on or near Upland river, and methinks 
in any happening we shall abide for a time at Upland 
village. Perchance our friend Gabriel may e’en feel dis- 
posed to give me timely hints as to the best seat for our 
mill, seeing he hath had mayhap long prior residence 
hereabout.” To this suggestion Gabriel nodded an em- 
.phatic assent as he reached his one arm up to receive 
Ebba into his yacht, whither the luggage of brother and 
sister had preceded her. 

A few of the passengers had already landed at New 
Castle and considerable delay was necessitated by the 
lading business at this then chief port on the Delaware. 
Matters had been hastened so that the ship might profit 
further by the up- tide now approaching its flood, and the 
signal was now given to weigh anchor. 

“ I leave thee in good hands, sister,” cried Arvid, as 
Gabriel pushed out with her in his yacht while the brother 
took a little yawl for the shore: “ I have some business 
here in the town and will join ye later at Altona; good-bye.” 

“ Lifelich, Seb,” cried Uncle Gabe to his boy boat- 
swain as the yacht left the ship, “ pe spry ! Yarely, now, 
und ve show der laty how ve be no luppers.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


267 


The light craft settled her sails gracefully to a fair 
breeze with a favoring tide, and they swept spiritedly up 
the stream. Rounding old Fort Cassimir on Grape Vine 
Point the little town was speedily hidden from view, and 
shoreward trees, catching the afternoon sun, were casting 
long shadows over the shining river. How lofty those 
trees ! — how new and many their varieties, how bright 
their foliage, how fragrant the woods and meadows as they 
glided along the green shore ! Everywhere a fair fertile 
land smiling under the enchantment of opening spring ! 
But everywhere a land she thought of level and uniformly 
tame beauty. Yet stay; what is that she sees to the left 
as they sweep from behind a dense clump of trees ? Yes, 
a wavy line of purpling hills pencilled in noble outline 
against the western sky. Ebba’s heart gave a bound ! 
Soon the view is obstructed. Could she then have been 
mistaken ? No, there ! the hills circle in one grand sweep 
from far inland around to the river in their distant front. 
The sight stirred the memory of Stockholm’s forest- 
topped background, and Sweden seemed not so far away. 

“Yes,” said Uncle Gabe, “ dey vas der highlands ov 
old Fish-Kiln, now called der Prandyvine hills, vhich 
you vill bretty quig see petter, metinks.” 

“ And is that a little church we see on the distant bank 
here by the side of the large tree?” 

“ Yaw, Mam’selle, dat vas Crane-hook church py its 
puttonwood : and peyont dat vas Alrich’s boint vhich we 
double zoon may be a’readty.” 

Soon they reached the point designated, when lo ! it but 
marked the lower boundary of a noble bay which swept 
backward to the feet of the circular hills, giving double 
breadth to the majestic river and submerging the Chris- 
tiana, Brandywine and Shelpot creeks, which at flood-tide 
coursed through it unseen. It was then nearing the flood 
and only one little island interrupted the long reach of 
waters frbm what is now Edgemoor to the high ground 
near the old Alrich’s mansion and from the shops of the 
existing Jackson and Sharp Company to the New Jersey 
shore. 

“ Dhat vas mein home,” said Gabriel, pointing to the 
isle with its little grove and cluster of half-hidden houses ; 
“and yondher,” he continued as they rounded into the 
bay, “vas Altona — zee der leetle hill und der old fort by its 
side ; ” and their little vessel, regardless of land or creek, 
bore them directly over the submerged marshes to the 
most historic spot on the entire shores of the Delaware 


268 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


bay and river : for it was on that little bold promontory that 
Europeans effected their first permanent lodgment on the 
old South river ; it was on this spot that the first Christian 
worship and courts of law were held anywhere about 
these shores, and it was this little headland that was the 
point of that serio-comic siege by the redoubtable Stuy- 
vesant, which transferred the region from Swedish to 
Dutch supremacy. 

“And here, then, was the olden Christinehamn of the 
Swedes ?’’ 

“Yaw, Mam’selle, yust py und pehint de fort v as der 
Svedish village dtill we valiant Dutch gome.” 

“ Were you then among the conquerors, my good sir?” 

“Aye — yaw, I vas one of dot six hundred mighty 
Dutchmen vhat capshure thirty Svedes, mostly sick, und 
broud enough pe I of a feat of arms unbarralleled in his- 
tory ; yaw more feet as arms, for ve runt round here two 
weeks killin’ shickens und pigs, but never kilt a man, und 
why pe I not broud of our beaceable siege vhen peace vas 
der end of var?’’ 

The sun was just sinking behind the highest hills as the 
yacht touched the landing; its last beams left a dusky 
tinge upon the crumbling fort and touched the tree-tops 
on the Jersey shore. As Ebba ranged her eye along the 
sweep of forest-crowned heights and over the free breadth 
of waters gemmed with their single isle, she thought she 
had never seen a fairer picture; and being one of those 
gleaming visions which subtly deepen one’s first impres- 
sions it became an indelible memory with her. 

“ And as I live!’’ she exclaimed as they landed, “a 
bold ro'cky shore withal; why, I could half fancy myself 
making a Swedish landing, but that these rocks are dark 
blue in lieu of light gray. And bravo ! these tow-headed 
urchins be further reminders of Sweden.’’ 

The children had been playing on the grass}^ slopes 
about the old fort’s foundation, and were staring in dumb 
amazement at the arrival of a stranger. Not even Uncle 
Gabe’s cheery greeting broke the spell which awed them 
with so rare a spectacle. Ebba gazed about her; the 
green bank was bespangled with dandelions and butter- 
cups and the evening air grew soft with spring perfumes. 

“Der house pe but a step beyont yondter; der schildren 
vil show der vay. Hello, dere ! you Eric und Mons und 
Brita; you Hans und Greta und Lars und all, you dakes 
your fingers oud mit yer mouths und show dis laty home. 
Und zo I bids you adieu ! Mit Gott’s blessing, farevell.’’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


269 


With which parting words the beaming Dutchman, lifting 
his slouched hat from his shaggy head, made a one-armed 
sweep of the air and with a low obeisance pushed out of 
the cove and bore away for his home-isle. 

“ Uncle Gabe !” called a voice from the hill-top, “ Oh, 
do stay to supper, Uncle Gabe.” But it was too late; the 
invited skipper did not hear or did not heed the call. As 
Ebba turned to the children they scampered on in a half- 
frightened huddle before her. They approached a log 
house with a huge outside chimney and a small garden 
enclosed by rude palings. A strong scent of lilacs was in 
the air; a bed of daffodils and lady-slippers thickened with 
fragrant growth, vines of morning glories began to clam- 
ber over the door and yellow jessamines already bloomed 
against the sunny wall — so much was noticed by Ebba 
when the person who had called from the hill suddenly 
appeared. “Thou hast thy great-uncle’s black hair,” 
said that person; “yes, and as I look further, his fiery 
tender eyes as well; and ’tis the Generalskan’s half-sister 
who greets thee; come — and Ebba felt herself imprisoned 
in welcoming arms. Was it weakness from the quaking 
voice or vigorous embrace, or was it the result of the ship’s 
motion that made her feel now so unsteady on the firm 
ground? Whatever it was she saw through dim eyes a 
cluster of sun-burned, blue-eyed faces peering with flat- 
tened noses through the window as she stood without, and 
dimmer seemed her vision when she entered the humble 
cabin which was to be her new home. 

So ended the less than seven weeks’ voyage from Lon- 
don: and long and busy was the talk on that evening. For 
much was to be heard of the new things in the bright, gay 
city of Stockholm and of the older places and friends of 
that dear fatherland from which they had long heard so 
little that it seemed fading from their memories. Ebba 
would renew those memories. But as she now grew 
sleepy as the children emerged from their awkward 
timidity, she promised to tell them many stories of the 
heathen vikings and modern heroes of the home country; 
and so she retired to spend her first night upon the actual 
firm shore of the New World. 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


270 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Next morning betimes a savory breakfast steamed from 
the best room in the little cabin. With the proverbial 
pride of the olden housekeepers, aunt Signild on so un- 
usual an occasion sought to acquit herself with unusual 
credit. The guest had arrived after supper and having 
partaken of that meal before leaving the ship, she de- 
clined the further refreshment pressed upon her by the 
hostess. 

Breakfast was therefore to be the welcome meal, and as 
it would be an earnest of the greeting of New Sweden to 
the fatherland it must be worthy of the occasion. To 
this end the old dame had bestirred herself with anxious 
glances occasionally cast at the stairway lest the guest 
should catch her unprepared. 

But the ready breakfast at last awaited the guest. She 
did not come. The host did not like to disturb her, and so 
continued waiting. At length she sent up one of the 
children. Soon their came a smothered cry of surprise, 
and dame Signild hurried up to Hbba’s chamber. It was 
empty ! What could it mean ? With vague alarm she 
hurried off in eager search and sent the children in various 
directions to look for their missing cousin. 

Meanwhile, Arvid on parting from his sister had spent 
the night in New Castle. He had been commissioned by his 
companions of the voyage to attend to various needs of the 
incoming settlers. With these errands he had busied him- 
self during the evening and earl}- morning, and then hast- 
ened to rejoin his sister. Walking the short route over- 
land he crossed the Christina by the then new ferry near 
the old fort and found people astir with some growing 
alarm. Catching vague rumors of its cause he rah on and 
after a hasty greeting of aunt Signild plied her with anx- 
ious queries. 

“ Which way, then, went my sister ?” 

“ That don’t we know for sure — we saw her ne'er at all 
this “blessed morning.’’ 

“ How, aunt? Said you not that she came to you last 
night with Gabriel Van Onkelbach ?” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


271 


“ Aye, at sundown ; and after supping and chatting with 
us she went to bed like any Christian maiden; and much I 
bestirred ihyself to serve a brave breakfast in welcome of 
our lady from fatherland, and if I do say it as ought’ nt to 
say it a better meal o’ wictuals aint been put on Swedish 
table since we feasted Governor Risingh in the blessed 
days of old; and he’ud ne’er have aught but the best from 
things temporal to things eternal as we maids found out to 
our chagrin when his Worshipful High Mightiness did 
shrewdly send to Sweden for a wife, though to be sure in 
our new Christinehamn we thought were as tidy maids and 
comely withal as need be, and ’twere better to choose 
from among the people he came to rule over, and — ” 

“ Yes, yes, aunt Signild, but about our missing Ebba. 
Said you not that she — ” 

“ Oh yes:- well as I was a sayin’ it were’t no common 
breakfast — none o’ you Fish Kiln ells nor dried to death 
deer meat with last year’s fixins, but the first pick from 
our airly garden and the fattest shad from the finest catch 
of the season, as Dirk the fisherman ’ll tell ye an he be an 
honest man, as it yet flapped drippin’ from his net this very 
morning, and ’twas seasoned with the daintiest marsh- 
mint and the strongest garlic to be found, and so, — ” 

“ Nay, aunt Signild, I’d be the last to question the per- 
fection of thy cooking after what I know of its savoriness, 
but can’stgive me, then, no clue — knowest not which way 
my sister went?” 

“ Only by foot- tracks in the dew: for when we did wait 
and wait, and the breakfast was a spoilin’, I sent Brita up 
and lo! her room was like a deserted Indian-camp and as 
empty as a last year’s bird’s nest; and then we all went out 
to search and we looked through the garden and stable 
and Hans and Mons went to the green mounds about the 
old fort and Lars went down to the shore of the Black Cat, 
and I kept on higher up the bank, and there when I 
tracked her way in the wet grass, old dame Thekla came 
and said her boy saw a strange fine lady goin’ toward the 
Brandywine when he went for the cow at sun up, and not 
long after she saw Indian Okowela going the same way 
with his gun; and — and — ” 

” And what then?” demanded Arvid: “say on at once.” 

“ Oh, I think there’s no harm: for I hope — but — but — ” 

“ But what?” thundered the other, “ speak out! no more 
parleying : out with it now once for all. What knowest or 
thinkest about this Indian or my Ebba’s safety?” 


272 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Nay, Arvid, be not o’er hasty; I know naught and I 
hope there’s no harm, but — but mother Thekla declares 
she heard a gun-shot up the creek not long after the 
stranger passed and neither the lady nor the savage has 
since been seen.’’ 

“My God! why said ye not this ere these precious mo- 
ments were prattled away? Swing the signal for Uncle Gabe 
and bid him follow on; to the rescue !’’ And the speaker 
bounded away in fiery haste toward the Brandywine. 

Pursuant to Arvid’s hurried direction respecting “the 
signal for Uncle Gabe’’ aunt Si guild ran to the corner of 
the house and pulling vigorously at a suspended rope 
raised a small flag to the top of a lofty pole planted in the 
ground. It was not long before a boat was seen to push 
out from a little island in the marshy bay half a mile east- 
ward, and by a somewhat devious course head toward the 
house. This was hardly observed before aunt Signild 
had a call from her neighbor Thekla, before named, who 
was all impatience to learn and consult further about the 
strange affair. 

“ And you are sure ’twas Indian Okowela that followed 
up the creek with his gun ?’ ’ enquired the first. 

“ So said my boy,’’ replied the witch-like dame, “and if 
he haint got a pair o’ sharp eyes no lad had e’er such in 
his head.’’ 

“Ah, yes; well I know how oft he hath served the 
whole settlement by findin’ what others gave up as lost. 
But did the Indian see my niece ; think ye he hurried up 
through the woods knowin’ the young woman had gone on 
afore him ?’’ 

“ That I can’t say, as my boy didn’t say, but a Ingin is 
a Ingin and they may say what they will about Okowela 
bein’ the best Andastaka in New Sweden, I wouldn’t trust 
him much furder nor any other redskin.” 

“ Well, we can tell better when we find out what he has 
been up to,’’ said aunt Signild ; “but talk about wild In- 
dians 1 now I oughtn’t to speak ill of my own kith and 
kin, but from what I hear, this young Ebba, though she 
be my half-sister’s grandchild and a good girl in most 
ways, is as fond of the howlin’ wilderness as the wildest 
painted savage of ’em all ; and she’ll run awav from her 
best friends as chance offers and spend hours among rocks 
and trees and such like dumb things; and I shouldn’t 
wonder if its only through some such wild freak that she 
hath wandered away into the woods in this strange fash- 
ion.” 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


273 


“There may no harm come o’ wandering in the woods 
if there be no heathen redskins watchin’ their chance for 
wickedness, but we know this young Okowela ’’ 

“ Ish mine goot frein’ !’’ exclaimed Gabriel van Onkel- 
bach, suddenly rushing in upon them ; “ who vas speakin’ 
mit de niouf or finds aught against dat brincely young 
Indian, eh ?” 

“Well, there aint nobody speakin’ particular agin the 
Ingin,” replied mother Thekla, “ but I saw him follow up 
the Fishkill this mornin nigh onto where my boy saw the 
new lady from fatherland pass, and the savage carried a 
gun and soon we heard a gun go off, and we feared that 
that ” 

‘ ‘ Out mid you ! und you tink he shodt der lady ; vat fer 
ye tinks dere yas notings to shoot put laties in tis vild 
country, eh? Now, you tells me all te fusz vas ish, und 
vat has habbened und all dis zstuff vat de beobles say.” 

So bidden the two old women told the fiat-spoken 
Dutchman all they knew and more that they imagined, 
respecting Ebba’s disappearance, and the resulting talk, 
ending with an account of Arvid’s starting in alarmed pur- 
suit and his request for Uncle Gabe’s speedy following 
after. 

“ O, I goes right avaybretty soon,” exclaimed that most 
obliging of men, “ but my word for id, der young Okovela 
do no harm ; he zomdimes bees too hod plooded und rash, 
but he too broud te do mean ting : he will crow to be as 
vise und goot as ze great Tamanend und dere vas no pet- 
ter, truer young vellow of any race ” — after which hearty 
endorsement of the young Indian the honest skipper 
Strode away with a lusty swing of his one arm and armless 
sleeve of the other to join in the common search. 

By this time the news had spread through the little set- 
tlement, gathering in volume as it went. In so quiet a 
community in the old frontier times a very small occur- 
rence sufficed to create much ado, and of course so great 
an affair as the arrival of a ship and the coming and sud- 
den disappearance of a stranger under mysterious circum- 
stances stirred the sleepy settlement to its depths. To add 
to the later excitement black clouds overcast the sky and 
a quickly rising wind with peals of thunder threatened to 
catch the searchers and searched in the common peltings 
of a violent storm. 

Arvid had quickly found the route taken by his sister 
and in a little while traced spots of blood on the grass. 
His heart beat faster at the seeming confirmation of his 
18 


274 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


worst fears; but when he presently came, across the 
carcass of a slain deer, he breathed freer, as this might 
possibly account for the reported gun-shot. So with 
alternating hope and dread he pushed on up the creek. 
As he proceeded the gathering storm seemed every 
moment about to burst over his head. He found the 
banks growing bolder and wilder, the woods denser and 
the masses of rock blacker and more obstructive as he 
ascended the stream. Nor was he re-assured when a large 
bear- trap, following the many wolf-pits he had passed, 
suggested additional sources of possible danger to his 
sister. And now as the wind wildly swayed the tree- tops, 
peals of thunder shook the hills and lightning flashed fit- 
fully through the darkening forest, Arvid hardly knew 
amid the increasing terror whether he most desired or 
dreaded convincing evidences of his sister’s fate. More 
than once he started with the sight or haunting sense of 
what seemed the streaming hair of a fljung woman, 
followed by the dusky form of her pursuer; but as often 
the vivid flashes dispelled the, shadowy forms as but the 
ghostly coinage of the imagination. 

As the rain began to descend Arvid looked around for a 
place of shelter, and seeing a leaning rock projecting 
from the steep hill-side above his head, he clambered up 
to it. He had scarcely placed himself underneath this 
rude roof when the rain came down in torrents, and the 
ravine near by soon vented a maddened rush of waters 
into the roaring creek below. But the violence of 
the spring storm quickly spent itself: the rain nearly 
ceased as suddenly as it had begun and Arvid began to 
look about him to pick his way out. Soon he thought he 
saw the flitting of a female garment among some large 
rocks higher up the bank. To re-assure himself he 
fixed his eyes intently upon the spot. Again he thought 
he discerned a female figure with the motion of an Indian 
robe. He started up the steep and called aloud, but his 
voice was drowned by the yet noisy elements. Then 
renewing his breathless climb up the bank, a momentary 
flash of sunshine lighted up the forest, when suddenly he 
was startled by an instant’s sight of his sister in the grasp 
of a hurrying savage. He was partially dragging his 
weary captive, who with gasping breath and streaming 
hair was pitilessly urged to speedier flight. With a 
maddened outcry Arvid rushed on to the rescue. But the 
rocky ascent and tangled underbush impeded his pursuit; 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


275 


at intervals the couple disappeared behind the swaying 
foliage, and when their pursuer gained the opening on the 
summit the Indian and his victim were nowhere to be 
seen. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

And now to go back and trace our Rbba’s experience in 
detail since she left us to spend her first night in the New 
World. 

R was with some coyness that sleep came to the 
young emigrant in her stationary bed after so many nights 
passed in her swaying berth on shipboard. But when it did 
come it was of the oblivious nature whose very soundness 
confuses the waking senses. With the earliest dawn Ebba 
opened her eyes and gazed about in curious half-stupor. 
Through the growing light she saw the white-washed 
walls of log, she reached up to the bare sloping rafters 
closely overhead, and as the cleanly loft and its simple fur- 
niture gradually revealed their homely outlines she real- 
ized where she was. 

But what then, withal, could mean this voiceful clatter 
she heard without. The birds seemed trying which should 
contribute most to make the dawn vocal. As she listened 
the brightly tender notes of the little chirping sparrow or 
“ chippy” seemed swallowed up by the hoarse- voiced jay, 
while the plaintive blue-bird yielded his voice, as he had 
yielded his nest, to the obstreperous vigor of the noisy 
wren. Now and then the gentle phcebe bird made her 
sweet voice heard as if to soothe the strife, while close un- 
der the window a songful robin was crowding his over- 
taxed breath in such a passionate outburst as threatened to 
break his glad heart. 

Ebba could lie still no longer. Stealing to the window 
she peeped out. There was the same breadth of bay 
stretching to the New Jersey shore, but she little imagined 
that since she last saw it the tide had gone out and come 
back, and between such ebb and flood had exposed an un- 
sightly array of muddy marsh to view. The sun was not 
yet up, but a focused sky-glow heralded his coming, and 
tinged the river and woods. And oh, the virginal fresh- 
ness of the hushed dawn! All visible things seemed pur- 
pled in dewy distillation. It besprinkled the uplands and 


276 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


steeped the meadows. It clung in globules to the flowers; 
it dripped from the trees. As she looked forth a bluebird 
alighted upon one of the long moist branches of the lilac 
bush and swayed it low toward the ground. The scented 
breath of hastening spring floated through the window; 
the chickens hasten^ed to begin the lengthening day’s 
roaming; the cows lowed at the grassy allurements of the 
May morning, and all things added to the hymned glad- 
ness in the air. 

To Ebba the day seemed as full of promise as the new 
land in which she was to begin her new life. In her novel 
surroundings she felt a rustic charm to which she gladl}^ 
yielded. She was eager to know more of them, and 
longed to feel the breath of the fresh morning cool her 
cheeks. She had hardly conceived the thought before she 
found herself speedily dressing with an eager purpose. 
Softly stealing from her room she descended the rude 
stairway. No one was stirring in the house, but she feared 
the creaking of the rough flooring must arouse its inmates. 
She quietly lifted the wooden latch and stole forth. The 
old watch-dog gave a sleepy growl and dozed on. Gazing 
about her she caught sight of what seemed flowing water 
gleaming through scattering trees on rising ground beyond. 
Hastening in that direction a few steps took her to a grassy 
and tree-dotted bank sloping to a winding stream, beyond 
which, at its apparent mouth, a bold shore crowned with 
lofty trees stood out at the head of a widening buy. It 
was Timber, afterwards Vandever island. Intervening, the 
flowing creek shone in bright expansion, while further 
up the shore Ebba saw that the banks grew higher and 
nearer together. Eured by the beauty of the landscape 
she quickened her steps, and found with delight that the 
slope she was crossing was the bank of a beautiful stream 
flowing down through the high hills beyond. Then she 
knew that this must be the Brandywine. Pushing eagerly 
on she ascended the gradually rising bank, and just as she 
turned for a better view the sun flashed over the woods of 
the Jersey shore transmuting the river and dripping dew 
into gold. And hark ! what sound meets her ears ? Can 
it indeed be the roar of waters? Yes, as she gazes up the 
stream she sees its whitened current and her heart leaps 
as she catches sight of its foamy plashings among the 
rocks, while she plainly hears the defiant yell of the de- 
scending flood. 

But with all the wealth of new things the Swedish girl 
began to feel the absence of some old friends and to com- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


277 

pare them with the new. She missed the evergreens of 
her native land, and the birch was much less frequent here, 
but the sturdy oak, if fraught with less paternal hoariness 
than old Druid Jarl, had much of the same reach of grate- 
ful shade. And for lofty grace of form what forest growth 
could match these tulip poplars; while for the very pathos 
of exquisite grace was ever inanimate thing so tenderly 
beautiful as this weeping willow ? Stranger than all per- 
haps seemed the lofty buttonwoods with their odd balls, 
their knotted twigs, their shedding bark, their spotted 
limbs in color so like a camel leopard. Here too was the 
swamp maple flushed with its early redness of foliage, and 
all along the water’s edge was that early shrubbery and 
luxuriant plant life which proclaim the joyous hastening 
of summer. Further up the walnut and hickory lifted 
aloft their nut-promising limbs, the elm mingled with the 
smooth-limbed beech and shaggy-coated gum, and both 
the edge and depths of the forest seemed everywhere alive 
with the white array of dog-wood blossoms. 

Absorbed with so many novel beauties Ebba wandered 
slowly on till she came to a grassy roadway or opening 
half-hidden amid encroaching bushes. It seemed to lead 
to the falls or rapids she had seen, which were swelling 
with nois}’ tumult as she approached. Along this verdur- 
ous pathway she sauntered amid a profuse growth of but- 
tercups and successive beds of anemones and violets. She 
had gathered bouquets of these and was stooping to add 
the delicate pink of the spring beauty as well as to admire 
the modest sweetness of the Quaker lady, when suddenly 
she was startled with the loud report of a gun, followed by a 
yelling outcry, and at the same instant she felt a shower of 
dew from the rustling bushes, when a wounded deer fell 
almost at her feet. Immediately a pursuing Indian leaped 
into the pathway before her. She uttered a low cry of 
alarm, but was hardly more taken by surprise than was 
the savage, at their unexpected meeting. Suppressing all 
signs of fear she sprang toward the struggling animal; it 
rolled up its beautiful eyes in agony and seemed to fix 
them upon hers in mute appeal for pity. Ebba kneeled 
down and placed one hand under the head of the deer 
while with the other she smoothed its gasping throat. 
The savage looked quietly on with apparent contempt as 
if at an exhibition of woman’s weakness, but when he 
presently fancied she mingled pity for the dying creature 
with rebuke of its destroyer he seemed to have more re- 
spect for her. As death in a few moments terminated the 


278 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


sufferings of the deer, Ebba turned and for the first time 
noticed that the Indian was a strikingly handsome man. 
With much breadth between a pair of bright piercing eyes 
he had an open, strong face with straight nose and firmly 
compressed lips; and as he leaned his tall form with easy 
grace upon his gun he presented an impressive type of that 
manly beaut}’ which had always been ascribed to the red 
men of the New World. 

It was her first sight of the wild native, of whom she 
had heard so much ; and as she turned upon him a stead- 
fast gaze of sadly scornful aversion, there was another 
rustle in the foliage, when a fawn timidly thrust through 
its head, paused an instant with an enquiring stare, and 
then bounded away. The savage instinctively grasped 
his gun, but with a look of rebuking protest from Ebba he 
quietly resumed his attitude of lofty repose. 

“ Sorry,” he gravely exclaimed, “no good time — no kill 
more;” and as he .spoke, the Indian, crossing his hands over 
the muzzle of his gun, shifted his posture to the other leg and 
continued gazing at Ebba. Whether he was merely sorry 
for having shot the deer out of the proper killing season, 
sorry for having killed the mother of the lonely fawn or 
sorry for not having also killed the latter, Ebba hardly 
knew; but her own manifestation of nerve, coupled with 
tenderness of feeling, had apparently excited the curious 
interest of the red man, and relaxed somewhat of his 
stolid dignity. 

‘‘Come over big water?” he enquired, ‘‘in big canoe 
with last sun ?” 

‘‘Yes, came last evening at sundown from across the 
great ocean.” 

‘‘ From land of peaceful Miquon the good and just? 
come ye in the tribe of the new Governor, the great Onas, 
who is friend of the red man, — to rule all with strong 
hand and gentle speech?” 

‘‘ I came witn many of Penn’s people,” replied Ebba, 
‘‘ but my fatherland is the land of the Swede who is also 
the friend of the red man. And you?” 

‘‘Am son of Chief Kanokere,” replied the savage, 
proudly straightening himself to his full height, ” Kano- 
kere, whose land is day’s walk all round,” and the speaker 
gave a sweeping gesture of his arm to indicate the extent 
of his father’s tribal possessions. 

‘ ‘ I am plea.sed to meet the heir of the mighty chief- 
tain,” replied Ebba, extending her hand as she made a 
motion to depart. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


279 


“ Kanokere,” continued the Indian, disregarding 
Ebba’s purpose and speaking in grave reverie as to him- 
self, “chief at council fire and family talks of the grand- 
father tribes, the great Wapannacliki who call all men 
brothers from the tide-water Nanticokes and ice-coast peo- 
ple to the mountain dwellers, and whose forty tribes 
divide, possessions with the gulf dwellers in the hot 
country, with the five nations about the big seas and with 
the fierce warriors in the land of the Dakotahs many 
moons away to the midsummer sun.” 

The last words of the Indian’s speech died away upon 
Kbba’s ear. She was impatient to see the near rapids 
whose noise was in her ears and whose whitened leaps she 
had seen flashing through the foliage; and so gradually 
drawing away she plunged along the buried pathway to 
the bank of the open Brandywine. Emerging from the 
thick bushes at what is now the first dam she uttered a 
cry of joy at the sight which met her eager gaze. After 
seeing so much of low muddy shores washed only by tidal 
waters in the New World, the first view of a flowing 
stream whose impeding rocks lash its current into foamy 
tumult, was indescribably gladsome to her. Yielding 
to a wild impulse she ran swiftly down the bank and 
leaped upon one rock after another until she nearly 
reached the opposite shore. 

The feat was not unobserved; for the savage, at first 
vexed at her desertion of him, had followed after and 
reached the bank just as she was making her most daring 
spring among the spray-moistened rocks. If he had be- 
fore felt the repressed spirit she mingled with her pity for 
the dying deer, he was filled with wondering admiration 
at this daring agility of the strange white maiden. Nor 
was this his sole emotion; for his Indian brain had been 
puzzled from the first with what seemed strangely contra- 
dictory in the girl. The women among the pale faces he 
had thus far seen were chiefly slow Swedish and stout 
Dutch matrons with sun-burnt faces and hair of much the 
same hue; but here was a slight maiden of rare strength 
and swiftness with a white complexion and jet black hair ! 
He had never found such a phenomenon before — fleet- 
footed as the swiftest of his own race, with the skin of the 
whites and hair of the Indian ! What did it mean ? Was 
it simple wonder or a mysterious half-wistful sense of 
kinship that touched the heart of this rude son of the 
forest ? 

Lounging against a fallen tree the Indian kept his gaze 


28 o 


Ebba Borjeson. 


intently fixed upon Ebba’s movements. More than once 
he thought to move away as with the feeling that so much 
curiosity for a mere girl’s actions scarcely became his na- 
tive dignity, but he found himself rooted to the spot; and 
when at length Ebba returned towards him and sprang 
back to the bank with cheeks glowing with exercise, her 
loosened hair streaming in the wind, the mystified savage 
felt something of that strange heart-surprise whose flutter- 
ings have confounded sage and simpleton, civilized man 
and savage since the beginning of the world. 

It had been Ebba’s intention to return to the house 
from these rapids. It was the wish for a nearer view of 
them that had tempted her so far away, and she well knew 
that breakfast would be waiting for her, that her absence 
would cause wonder and anxiety and that ever)^ proper and 
just feeling should urge her speedy return. But she was 
excited by her fresh surroundings, and felt their wild fas- 
cination. Looking up the stream she saw that the banks 
grew higher, the woods denser, the rocks more plentiful, 
and she could not resist the temptation to go a little fur- 
ther. When she re-touched the shore she turned her face 
up the creek and wandered on. As she did so she thought 
she saw the Indian move in the opposite direction. 

It will be remembered that there were no mills or races 
on either side of the Brandywine at that early period. 
Rude mills had been constructed on Mill Creek on the one 
hand and on the Shelpot on the other, but this far larger, 
stronger strean;, as yet unfettered by dams and untrained 
to man’s service, plunged between its wooded and rocky 
banks in all the wild freedom of nature. Following the 
winding shore Ebba picked her own way, sometimes by a 
scarcely discerned footpath along the water’s edge, some- 
times along the course afterwards taken in excavating the 
race. At length she came to where is now the head-gates 
at the second, recently the third dam. Oh! was ever a 
wilder jumble of piled up rocks than here frowned ov^er- 
head ? In a moment she was clambering over and squeez- 
ing between their jagged masses. Reaching the mossy 
summit her eyes ranged the dark valley below, when she 
saw something that gave her a start; forlo! there the In- 
dian, who, she thought, had gone down the creek, stood 
erect with folded arms, calmly watching her through the 
openings among rocks and trees. 

Surely, she thought, she ought now to return. Com- 
mon prudence seemed added to other reasons for not fur- 
ther pursuing her random expedition. But she was not 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


281 


now in a mood for reasoning. She had had a taste of that 
maddening elixir of heroic nature which she thought must 
have excited the old Berserks. The latent wildness of 
her own spirit was aroused within her, and regardless of 
speeding time, jealous of pos.sible hindrances, Ebba 
leaped down from her perch and hurried on up the stream. 
Soon she came to Rattlesnake run, then a lashing and 
clamorous volume plunging down its rock)^ bed. With 
the aid of a pole she sprang over this noisy obstacle and 
followed on to that rocky knoll a little beyond the high 
bridge of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad and opposite 
Jessup’s paper mill. With an exclamation of delight she 
clambered over thatpiled jumble of mossy rocks, struggling 
trees and interwoven vines, than which sh^ thought there 
could be nothing more .wildly beautiful within so small a 
space. Just beyond a little brook tumbled its sparkling 
waters into the Brandywine, and surely there could be no 
saucier music than its laughing gurgle as heard at inter- 
vals amid the engulfing chorus of the noisier creek. 

Listening and gazing around, for a time, she was about 
to descend with the thought that the Indian had at last 
ceased following her, when she caught a glimpse of a 
dusky visage peeping from behind a neighboring tree. 
Clambering down on the opposite side she hastened on. 
The further she went the more eager she grew in her wild 
pursuit. Laboring for some time over hindering masses of 
oddly tumbled rocks, Ebba stopped at length to admire 
the silvery gleam of Allapokus creek, which emerged like, 
a vision from the dark wall of woods and rocks on the op- 
posite shore. Then coming to quietly flowing water with a 
smooth surface, she leaned over and saw the reflection of her 
flushed face as in a mirror. She sat down to rest and as she 
mused the curled foliage of the past year’s growth floated 
past her. It seemed like so many little leaf-boats which, 
sailing down from the forest depths, glided in dreamy 
mystery heralding vernal unfoldings and hinting of 
verdurous recesses unimagined in the trackless wilds 
above ! 

With her imagination thus fed anew Ebba sprang up 
and pushed forward with new eagerness upon her vague 
mission. Soon she entered a sort of natural pathway 
which was separated from the creek by a narrow parallel 
belt of wood, and as the qui veering waves flashed through 
the intervening foliage in the advancing light of the morn- 
ing the wanderer stood enraptured with the softly brilliant 
changefulness and wild grace of the picture before her. 


282 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


And rapids again ! — foamy crested rapids for the fifth 
time ! Nay, more; for here now was a veritable cascade; 
how its music filled all the balmy air ! Surely, according 
to the olden legends of Sweden here should be the soulful 
birth-place of the New World’s musicians; for verily ne’er 
did Christian faith banish Odin’s skalds and minstrels un- 
der more lovely shelter. All along this beautiful stream 
is woithy harbor for water-sprite and siren — for sweet 
singers old and new; and well may we fancy as we listen 
that ’tis not alone the water plashings we hear, but the 
• harmonious minglings as well of angelic songs voicing that 
water of life which floweth ever to the blessed ocean 
of eternity. 

So mused the wandering girl as she still followed up the 
creek. She had gone but a few steps further, watching 
the headlong current, when she suddenly stopped with a 
startled cry of surpri.se; for along the water’s edge was an 
eno.mous human foot-print distinctly impressed upon a 
large rock projecting from the bank; and there, a few yards 
further, was another on the ground, and yonder on the 
mossy turf still another. She gazed about in wonder. 
The bordering hills had grown continually higher and 
steeper, and now they walled in the stream amid a deep, 
dark valley of dense forest and masses of jagged rocks. 
No wild gorge of Fatherland, thought Ebba, could well be 
more weird, solemn, mysterious. Peering upward through 
the gloom she faintly traced what seemed the rough ruins 
of an enormous rock temple. Its last standing remains, 
seen amid the lofty tree tops, stood darkly against the sky 
as if poised on the summit’s brink pending a plunge into 
the abyss where she stood. With mingled daring and 
awe Ebba sought to escape the deepening gloom by 
climbing to the summit. But her ascent was effectually 
barred by a chaotic jumble of prodigious rocks more 
formidable than any she had yet encountered. More than 
once they forced her to change her intended route of as- 
cent. But with all their obstructive confusion were not 
these huge stones too shapely for the chance handiwork 
of nature ? Was not this a broken architrave and that a 
fragment of massive lintel? Piled in ponderous confusion, 
indeed, seemed the entire entablature, with chance frag- 
ments of what might have formed a crude edifice of stupend- 
ous size. And there, thought Ebba, were some of its petri- 
fied contents as well ; for surely here was a shapely round 
table and there the remains of a mantel and sideboard; and 
what were these graceful curves but parts of a family altar, 


Ebb a Borjcson. 283 

and that rounded fixture, what could it be but the family 
meat block ? 

Finding her way at length by an easier ascent Ebba 
shouted with grotesque triumph as she reached part of a 
dislodged stone stairway of enormous dimensions, huge 
enough to have accommodated the feet and strides of the 
giant whose foot-prints she had seen on the shore below. 
Had this, then, been the abode of one of the olden giants of 
the Norse mythology, and were these huge stones the 
ruins of his grim castle tumbled down the steep from the 
height above ? With half-jovial solemnity she indulged 
the odd fanc}^ as she gazed over the darkened wreck. 
Ponderous and frowning enough was what met her eye if 
otherwise insufficient to support the fancy; but it was 
odorous and luring as well, for over and among the tum- 
bled rocks luxuriant ferns and moss and intertwining vines 
and herbage were holding verdurous revelry more joyous 
than ever resounded through the grim walls of the giant- 
temple, however intact. 

After some thwarted efforts Ebba at length found a zig- 
zag side-path by which she climbed to the summit. Lo ! 
what a sight opened to her view. Emerging thus 
suddenly from the dark seclusion of the narrow valley the 
sunny expanse which now stretched before her seemed 
indescribably beautiful. A wide sweep of majestic hills 
mantled with stately woods, here and there disclosed 
grassy openings and small patches of cultured ground 
beside the humble dwellings of the early farmers, while 
far to the southeast lay the broad Delaware, like a belt of 
silver against the level forest-line of the New Jersey 
shore some five miles away. Although hundreds of feet 
lower in altitude the river seemed then as it seems now on 
a higher level than that of this lofty point of view. And 
with what dreamy brightness the lordly stream reflected 
that May sky of 1682 ! Lifting itself apparently above 
intervening hills and grassy meads, the proud river swept 
its verdurous shores as with a conscious mien in its 
measured march to the sea. So thought the maiden who 
thus earl}' appreciated the superb view, and as she did so 
her memory went back to those glimpses of the distant 
Baltic caught in childhood from near her Swedish home. 

Turning then toward the Brandywine Ebba clambered 
out on the highest of the summit rocks which she thought 
had resembled a fragmentary temple seen from the crsek. 
From this perch she looked down into the billowy foliage 
of lofty trees whose roots were in the rocky steep and 


284 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


valley below. She gazed at the deep forests and high 
hills on the opposite shore of the Brandywine and she 
caught a single glimpse of the gleaming current as it 
swept through the rock-bound and leafy depths beneath. 
Old Wilmingtonians who may chance to read these pages, 
will recognize the place as ‘Will’s Rock.’ For by that 
name it has been known for many j^ears: and save for a 
few unsightly excavations near by, the spot and its 
immediate surroundings retain much of their original 
appearance to this day. There is, however, one notable 
change. In that may lurk rude disenchantment for the 
modern visitor who is a lover of pure nature; for he will 
probably be startled from his reveries by the scream of the 
locomotive, and may chance to see the most prosaic 
object of a utilitarian age in the shape of box cars stand- 
ing or moving on the railroad recently constructed mid- 
way between the summit and the water’s edge. 

As Ebba sat gazing from the rock she fancied she saw 
her pursuing Indian standing in a cavernous aperture like 
a bronze statue among the rocks. Or was it but the grim 
shadow of one of the ghostly habitues of the ruined tem- 
ple ? She had hardly solved the idle query before she be- 
came aware of an unusual commotion among the trees. 
Looking up she saw that the sky was being rapidly over- 
cast, the wind was rising and a black cloud gathering 
along the western horizon. Starting up in alarm she real- 
ized the full extent of her impulsive and culpable behav- 
ior. She had already begun to feel wear}^ and now she 
was faint with hunger. She was in a wilderness, miles 
from shelter, with the prospect of being caught in a 
storm. As she started with hesitating steps respecting her 
route she thought she heard a voice amid the gathering 
noises, and at once the Indian was at her side. 

“ Me show pale-face better path, — come !” and the red 
man started on by a blind path hidden among the swaying 
bushes. It ran along the top of the hills bordering the 
creek and in some places seemed blocked with dense 
undergrowth. Ebba drew back with whitened cheeks. 
Her companion, divining her secret misgivings, drew him- 
self to his full height with a look of offended dignity. 
Then producing a piece of dried venison, with hominy 
and prepared sappaun, he gave the dingy viands to the 
famished girl with all the honest gusto of Indian hospi- 
tality. No fastidious pretence checked Ebba’s eager ac- 
ceptance of the food, and after she had eaten of it a few 
moments, during which the red man stood scanning the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


2S5 


cloud movements with a lowering brow, he pointed to the 
homeward path, and with an imperious air befitting a king 
upon his throne, quietly said, “Follow and eat — storm no 
tarries,” — upon which the son of the forest strode forth 
with no more doubt of the result than of the obedience 
following the command of royalty. Nor did he overesti- 
mate his power under the peculiar circumstances ; for 
Ebba, in the perplexed urgency of her situation, had a 
confused sense of all else than that she saw before her a 
singularly comely young savage who was bent upon be- 
friending her. And so without more ado she followed her 
guide, munching her food as she went. 


CHAPTER XL. 

Hastening from the approaching storm the Indian led 
Ebba from Will’s Rock by a faint trail winding in and out 
of the topmost forest which skirted the creek’s rugged val- 
ley. Before they had gone far the storm burst over their 
heads, and the increasing rain drove them to a place of 
shelter under the brow of the bordering ridge. Remain- 
ing there till the rain was nearly over they emerged from 
their retreat to resume their journey ; and it was just as the 
young chief was helping his companion up the short ascent 
that Arvid discovered them. After they disappeared over 
the summit he followed on with breathless desperation. 
The sun had come out with a vivid glare, but the clouds 
were collecting again with a promise of more rain. Then 
as Arvid ranged his anxious scrutiny through the changing 
light the missing pair suddenly re-appeared; but much to 
his surprise, they seemed to be hastening toward the home 
settlement, not away from it. In a calmer mood this would 
have allayed his worst fears. But he was too flurried to 
draw favorable inferences, and, rushing madly on, over- 
took them just as they were escaping from the renewed 
rain in an open shed of one of the nearest of the scattering 
houses. Of a hotly impulsive nature Arvid was hardly 
conscious of a definite purpose as he hissed out ‘ ‘ Red- 
skin dastard!” and rushed with threatening gestures to- 
ward the savage. The latter drew himself up and with 
folded arms merely looked his calm surprise without word 


286 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


or act; but Ebba, with a half-uttered cry of joy at seeing 
her brother, rushed between them: 

“ Nay, my brother,” sha exclaimed; ” would’ st return 
evil for good ? This red man hath befriended thy sister — 
hath given me food and guidance; but for his kindness I 
had well-nigh perished in the storm.” 

The color left Arvid’s face; his glance wahdered with a 
questioning expression between his sister and the Indian. 

“What, my brother hesitates I I tell thee,” she per- 
sisted with kindling earestness, “this noble man is thy sis- 
ter’s benefactor; the waywardness, the wrong-doing, the 
selfish heedlessness were all hers, and this good Indian 
saved her from her folly: if thou lov’st me, thou’ It give 
him thanks, not curses.” 

” Dot vas so good words as never vas!” interposed Un- 
cle Gabe, who at that moment bustled in upon them from 
the bushes. ” Vot I tole you? vot I vill alvays shust 
shpeak mit every potty dot dot Indian do never harm but 
alvays goot, eh? Bravo, bravo, mine Gott! ’twas goot.” 
And the worthy man, thumping his breast with his one arm, 
danced round in very joy at the happy termination of all 
their anxieties. Arvid, dropping his head, half in shame, 
approached the voung Indian. 

” I am sorry to wrong any man,” he said, ” here is the 
hand of a grateful brother. I give thanks and ask 
pardon.” 

The red man took the extended hand and silently 
pressed it with a quiet smile of pleasure. 

Explanations followed, with penitent assurances from 
Ebba respecting the anxieties her thoughtless behaviour 
had caused; and when the rain presently ceased, the party, 
now constantly re-inforced by the re-assembling scouts, 
slowly wended its way back to the house of aunt Signild. 
That much aroused old lady received them with up-lifted 
arms and severely questioning looks. Born in the olden 
Swedish Christinehamn and considerably younger than her 
half-sister, the deceased Generalskan, this American rela- 
tive spent much of her early life in Norway, of which her 
father was a native; and in a confused way she had im- 
bibed many of those legendary ideas and superstitions 
which seem to have been compounded of old Norse myth- 
ology and the crudest form of early Christianity. These 
in different parts of Scandinavia receive somewhat differ- 
ent versions, and some of them, with special significance 
in some one of the three nationalities, have slight foothold 
in the others. But aunt Signild, with catholic acceptance 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


287 


of all, had a sort of ghostly enthusiasm with her growing 
years, which linked itself with an odd sense of duty toward 
religion and fatherland ; and while all phases of all the myth- 
ological love of the north commanded her reverent heed, 
she specially cherished the storied superstitions which 
had been vividly impressed upon her childish life in 
Norway. , 

Closely questioning Ebba as to the route she had taken 
and all she had seen in her ramble, aunt Signild sharply 
scrutinized her replies with half-dreading ear; and when 
Ebba told of her finding the huge footprints and the temple- 
like rocks in the gloomy defile, the old dame held her 
breath with ghastly fixedness of feature. 

“ Jotunheimr !” she muttered in a sepulchral undertone, 
“as I live she’s been in the Giant’s Temple !’’ and as 
she spoke, as if gasping for utterance, she flashed an en- 
quiring glance for dreaded confirmation toward Okowela. 
The Indian silently bent his head in grave assent. 

“ Mercy on us, child ! Knew you not where you idly 
gaded ? Ah, the giddy waywardness of young heads and 
light hearts ! ’Tis a wonder ye did’nt cross the torrent 
and peer into the Giant’s Cave in the opposite bank. Now 
how chanced my tender child who hath but just touched 
this savage land with her dainty feet — how came you to 
hasten into such dark and terrible haunts ?’’ 

“ Why, aunt,” mildly responded Ebba, who had acknow- 
ledged with happy interest how the rocks had seemed like 
the ruins of a fallen temple, “ ’twas but my idle fancy; 
and what more hath my good aunt for her faith ? How do 
you know that — ’’ 

“ How know I? Dear heart ! hav’nt I seen all in my 
dreams ; hav’nt the savages from remotest time trans- 
mitted from father to son the fearful secret of these 
haunted ruins? Why child, this New World was the olden 
Land, and as sure as Heaven decreed its rightful posses- 
sion to our dear Sweden those great rocks are what re- 
main of a mighty dwelling-place of the Giants, wherein 
was the death grapple of brainful foes — wherein was the 
combat of wit and wisdom betwix Odin and Vafthrudnir, 
that awful wrangle in the which the All-father eternally 
vanquished his debating foe, in sore revenge for which de- 
feat the wrathful giant did pull down the vast temple e’en 
as Samp.son did of old. As well a’most doubt the story o’ 
that Bible giant as doubt that from temple of the old Swed- 
ish Upp-sala there sprang the olden gods and guidance o’ 
the world.” 


288 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


The trace of an incredulous smile stole into Ebba’s face 
at the vehement utterance of her aunt. 

‘ ‘Stay, child !” exclaimed the old dame, whose jealous eye 
it did not escape; and with a flushed face she lifted a de- 
precating arm as she continued. 

‘ ‘ Tempt not the unguessed might of the sleeping Aesir. 

I know not but they and their mightier rulers be. now de- 
throned by the Christian dispensation, but an their wan- 
dering spirits come yet on earth their fury and the ire of 
all evil ghosts I well know must be maddened to night-rev- 
ellings by idle irreverence or unconcerned levity. With 
such mood and temper I scarce marvel, my Ebba, at the 
storm thou this day awakened in the hushed shades of the 
old abode. As I marked the wind’s whirling tumult I e’en 
feared they might reach the madness of a Norwegian ‘Berg- 
rose.’” 

“ And pray, aunt Signild,” enquired Ebba, “ what then 
is a Berg-rose ?” 

“ ’Tis a mighty .whirl-wind lashed to madness among 
the wild mountains and stern rocky coasts of Norway. 
But e’en that is not so woeful as the coming of the 
Aasgaardsreija, the night-riding wanderers betwixt Heaven 
and Hell, too bad for the one, and too good for the other, 
who are the spirits of the lustful self-seekers, not lost with 
the blackened felons but condemned to do nightly 
penance till doomsday. Though they most do come at 
Christmas tide, the iron-clatter, the roar and diz/.y flashes 
of this da3^’s storm did so bring the Aasgaardsreija to 
mind that I quaked in fear of the great band of coal 
black horses with fiery eyes and ireful riders led by 
Reisa-Rova in her long train streaming in full career. 
But, good neighbors — but — but — ” 

“Say on, aunty, ’’ exclaimed several voices, “oh, tell us 
all about it.’’ 

“ Well, dear hearts,’’ she resumed, looking over her 
shoulders as she sank her voice to a husky whisper ‘ ‘ be- 
lieve me or believe me not — think me fool or think me 
philosopher but I tell 3"e now m3" old blood pulsed cold at 
the blackest hour to-day: and why ask ye? because my 
old neck would turn not, and turn not why? because I 
dared not look at the house-top lest thereon the Aasgaards- 
reija had thrown astride a saddle whereunder must some 
one die, and I feared my own cabin to enter lest the 
seated Aasgaardsreija should harbinger the laughing 
signal of speedy bloodshed. And alas, not mine was that 
pureness of heart to avert the doom by timely prostration. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


289 


But, true friends, the warnings happily go past — the omens 
be now good — see ye the promise! ” — and the old dame as 
she ended suddenly turned and pointed to the eastern 
sky, athwart which arched a magnificent rainbow. 

“ So we hail it !” was the chorused voice of the party. 

“ Und ve donh vill got no more dtroubles mit der 
spirits vedder dey fire der brain or haunt der rocks of ve 
don't vill dtake too much ov dem in our pellies.’’ 

“ Dear hearts all,” exclaimed the hospitable dame, try- 
ing to frown a rebuke upon Uncle Gabe’s jolly scepticism, 
” do all stay now and sup with aunt Signild: I can make 
shift to gie ye a cold snack each here under the button- 
wood.” 

“Vhat!” protested Uncle Gabe, “no shadt in shadt 
time I vhy efen aunt Signild vould risk her rebudation 
for goot sheer mitoud der best fish vat swims: und Dirk 
dell me ’twas bad haul on last tide; put he bromises dame 
Signild der finest floppers dat never vas for Mamsell’s 
maiden breakfast; for she vas sheated out mit her wel- 
come feast — ” 

“ Or cheated herself,” interposed Ebba, smiling. 

‘ ‘ Und nex week ye goomes all to mine table on Kypero- 
landet to eat and tdrink mit Unkel Gabe at his island 
home: und now go all ve avay shust — hoorah !” 

And as hibba with the last departure turned toward the 
house there was emblazoned over the western hills a sun- 
set so inconceivably beautiful that its gorgeous suffusion 
vaulted the varying heavens in a widening mass of 
glorified light. 


CHAPTER XEI. 

Long Ebba watched the changeful glory of that sunset. 
She had never seen nor imagined anything quite so gor- 
geous. Well she remembered the radiant splendors with 
which the sinking sun had filled earth and sky about the 
old home in Sweden, but here seemed a very mountain of 
focused crimson and purple and gold whose transcending 
vividness of color and form was mellowed into a hazy 
tenderness of dreamy repose. It was at once like a vi- 
sion longed for and realized. Then as the sun fell be- 
hind the highest hills the whole sky rolled its flaming 
banners in such deepening radiance as burnished the 

19 


290 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


broad river eastward and lingered so widely and long 
that not only tree-tops, but even the rusty curves and low 
green ramparts of the old fort shared in the all-pervading 
glow. * 

As she gazed Bbba sat under a tall buttonwood near the 
door ; night-hawks swooped down through some scattering 
walnut trees which the woodman had spared from a once 
large grove covering the rising ground ; whip-poor-wills 
called louder with the deepening shadows, and the rising 
chorus of frogs held continuous roar far over the adjacent 
marshes. To these novel sights and sounds the stranger 
gave herself with ever wondering interest. But not greater 
was her wonder than that of the group of tow-heads by 
whom she was surrounded. They were the motherless 
grandchildren of aunt Signild, who gave them such scant 
guardianship as she might during the absence of their 
father, who, as soldier, sailor, hunter and adventurer, was 
much away from home. But the old dame was growing a 
little dull and clumsy with increasing j^ears, and it was the 
better care and instruction of these young cousins that was 
to be Ebba’s occupation for the present. They had over- 
come their first wondering awe of their strange lady rela- 
tive ; at least they had reached that stage of the process 
which permitted them to exchange words and near looks 
without keeping fingers in their mouths, hanging the head 
in sidelong confusion or posturing in leg-twisted balance 
upon one foot. Yet they wondered what the bright new 
lady could find to gaze at so much in the common things 
with which their young eyes were so familiar. 

Little Nils, with childish confidence in the indulgence 
of the household baby, had become emboldened enough to 
climb into Ebba’s lap, while two of the next older chil- 
dren, one on either hand, tugged timidly at her side. 
Their faces, hair and apparel were much of the same yel- 
lowish hue. Something of the silky gloss of hair, some- 
thing of the ruddy tenderness of Swedish complexion 
seemed blasted under the fierce sun of the new world : yet 
here was saucy health, and as she held the fat cheeks and 
gazed into the broad face of the little Nils she wondered 
whether in all the fatherland itself there could be found 
sunnier hair or bluer eyes. 

And now Hans and his sisters Gothild and Christina 
race out of the house with shouting palpitation for the 
honor of being first to tell Ebba that supper is ready. And 
she is quite ready for it ; for the fatigue and excitement of 
the long day have brought her the weariness of a pil- 


Ebb a Boijeson. 


291 


grim and the hunger of a bear. The same causes im- 
pelled her to go early to bed : and sweet and oblivious 
were her easy slumbers. Gradually the evening birds, the 
sighing winds and all the sounds of the weary day ceased, 
save the steady roar of the marsh frogs. That continued 
to fill the night with its unvarying tone, and ter its melan- 
choly lull the thronged household lately astir with un- 
wonted tumult was hushed in blissful rest. 

Ebba was up betimes in the morning and went softly 
down stairs, firmly resolved not to be again tempted to 
saunter away. She found aunt Signild already busy with 
preparations for breakfast. And gentle and gracious she 
seemed, as if to atone for her implied fault-finding in her 
solemn words respecting Ebba’s wandering and awaken- 
ing of the offended spirits. She would not permit of an}' 
assistance in preparing the meal. 

• “ Not from the guest who hath not had her welcome 
feast;” and aunt Signild straightened herself with the old 
settler’s pride of frontier hospitality; ” ’twould’nt be the 
right thing toward the new-com^r from fatherland; but if 
ye choose ye may look after Nils and the younger ones 
when they get awake, and that’ll be soon, for Lars and 
Brita have been a full hour gone for the cow, and Hans 
and Christina and maybe all the youngsters ’ll be wantin’ 
a first drink o’ new milk in its garlicky foam and fresh- 
ness; perchance ye now might like a mug of that same.” 

Ebba shook her head, mildh^ declining the delicacy. 

“ No? But ye can’t know how rich be our early gar- 
lick pastures. There be no stronger in dear Sweden; and 
they give such a garlicky sm^ll to the cows and such a 
searchin’ taste to the milk, and — yes, oh the 3’aller sweet- 
ness of our garlicky butter — there ain’t nothin’ like it for 
scentin’ the whole house ! Oh, we do have some power- 
ful blessings in this new world along with some of our 
hardships. But -what can be keepin’ Lars and Brita so 
long? I hope the cow ain’t lost in the deep woods where 
she strayed away the week after easter. Would ye mind 
steppin’ in the garden to see if they be a-comin’ ; but don’t 
go far, for breakfast is about ready only for the new 
milk.” 

Ebba acting upon the suggestion went out and looking 
first along the grassy edge of the marsh and then toward - 
the wood openings over the northwesterly sweep of hills, 
thought she saw a cow and calf appear and disappear 
among some clumps of intervening trees. They appeared 
to be slowly approaching, the animals being in charge of 


292 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


three persons, the tallest of whom seemed to be leading 
or dragging the calf with some difficulty. She went in 
and reported to aunt Signild: 

“Has the cow a young calf?” Ebba enquired. 

“Dear heart, no; not now. Why bless ye, our Spotty 
calved earlj^: she came in the day afore Ash-Wednesday 
and we weaned her weeks and weeks ago; but why do ye 
ask?” 

‘ ‘ Because they seem to be bringing a calf with the cow 
and they have trouble to get it along.” 

‘ ‘ Then the calf must have broke away from Herr Stid- 
hams as they came along; for there’s where we sold it, 
and a fine likely heifer, too, she must be agin this time, 
for she was dropped in the right change o’ the moon, and 
it’ud puzzle a greater witch than dame Thekla to 
conjure any signs agin that creeter’s makin’ a good 
milker, and I can’t think why they — but said ye there was 
three — ” 

She was cut short by the approaching loud cowbell, 
mingled with the sound of human voices and the simul- 
taneous appearance of Lars. 

“ Now what kept ye ? I’d like to — ” 

“ Hush, grandy !” interposed Lars, putting his finger to 
his lip to enjoin silence, while with his other hand he 
motioned over his shoulder; and then there were some 
whispered words between aunt Signild and her roguish 
grandson, followed by an immediate call to breakfast, or 
rather to the smorgas preceding it. 

And such a breakfast ! The waters of Scandinavia had 
long been celebrated even then for their excellent fish, 
but Ebba thought no swimming creature in them equalled 
the delicate flavor, the rich savoriness of these Delaware 
shad. It was possible, indeed, that their superiority was 
enhanced on this occasion by the Swedish smorgas which 
her aunt had prepared as a surprise for her; for although 
this preliminary luncheon was not usually served even in 
Sweden to appetize other meals .than dinner, the pride of 
the hostess was aroused both to show what feasting re- 
sources the New World could afford, and to recall the 
dear fatherland b}^ resorting to one of its most peculiar 
and ancient customs in the shape of this favorite Swedish 
mode of preparing a rare appetite for a rare repast. 

“ To be sure,” said the aunt, apologetically, “ the an- 
chovies, and the pickles, and the spices and things aint to 
be had in this heathen land to suit a Christian Swedish 
notion o’ real fireside smorgas, but if Ido say it as ought’ nt 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


293 


to say it, these cowcumbers which I pickled with these old 
hands ain’t so bad; nor yit these garden peppers, nor this 
home-made cheese, nor for the matter o’ that these herrin’ 
ketched by my son Eric and smoked by his foolish old 
mother; but it’s too late in the season for our South river 
oysters without we had real Swedish ice to keep ’em in; 
and so here in place of ’em are some red crabs which Lars 
caught down by the fort; but arter all it ’aint so much the 
eatin’s as this new drink I sets store by; for Eric got the 
berries from a Spanish trader on his last trip and showed 
me how to beat ’em fine and boil ’em, and they say its what 
the old country is gitten wilder about than its old wine; 
and so, here goes !” — with which prefator}^ words the old 
dame turned and lifted the lid of a hissing coffee pot, re- 
leasing the delicious fumes of the then novel beverage to 
mingle their aroma with the fresh morning air. Then was 
set forth an enormous fat shad nicely broiled and dressed 
with garlic and marsh mint. 

“Oh, delicious!” exclaimed Ebba, as she tasted the 
savory fish and sipped the rich coffee — two articles than 
which the culinary art of more modern times has coupled 
nothing finer for a simple breakfast. 

“It ain’t what it ought to be,’’ replied aunt Signild, 
pursuant to the habit of certain housekeepers, who court 
their guest’s praise by openly decrying their own efforts 
in proportion as they secretly exalt them. “ I know it 
ain’t such a meal as ought to be set afore a Swedish lady 
used to the elegant tables of Stockholm, but it’s the best 
I can do in this wilderness.’’ 

“ Nay,’’ protested Ebba, with more sincerity than is 
usual in similar cases, “ I declare ’tis marvelously good: I 
ne’er tasted better coffee nor so fine a fish in all my life.” 

Aunt Signild was delighted: she had planted herself with 
her hands on her hips to watch the effect of her 
guest’s first taste of the shad and coffee; and now 
she drew a deep breath, as of 'relief, while her 
face lighted up with proud and joyous triumph. 
And there was a happy household in the humble cabin, on 
that bright May morning. But what meant the significant 
glances exchanged at intervals between the indulgent 
‘ ‘ grandy ’ ’ and her roguish Lars ? And now at the conclu- 
sion of the breakfast, with what mysterious and merry ex- 
pectancy Ebba is iiudted out to see the calf that morning 
brought home. She walks with them to the log cow house, 
and then as the others stand and look on Ebba is invited 
to look in. She peeps through the half-open door. It is 


294 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


a slender, odd-looking calf, she thinks, with delicate legs 
and a gentle face: they open the shed door, when out 
springs a beautiful fawn! At the same instant out comes 
Indian Okowela from behind the cow-shed. 

“ Okowela, who killed the mother, is sorry for the 
child,” said he. “Okowela has tried to show it kindness; 
he has caught the poor young deer; he has been gentle 
with it; Okowela brings it for pale-faced maiden: will she 
care for it like a mother for her child and teach it to love 
her ?” 

A quick .smile of surprise shot into Ebba’s face; she 
held out her hand to the fawn; the trembling creature 
looked and hesitated; then timidly approached ; it licked 
her hand and looked up in her face. Ebba turned to the 
Indian and bowed her jo^^ous acknowledgment. The sav- 
age lifted higher his head in proud delight. “ ’Tis well,” 
he calmly uttered; “ Okowela is glad,” and turning, he 
slowly marched away, while the children sent up such 
shouts of boisterous interest in the affair that the fawn, 
taking fright, bounded through the yard and back into the 
little shed, 

“ What mercy, what thoughtful kindness!” mused Ebba, 
“ hath this young Indian evinced. Savage they call him, 
but how many civilized men would have acted with more 
considerate tenderness?” Sh^ did not ask or know how 
maii}^ men, civilized or savage, would do less for the 
woman to whom they owe the first stirrings of that myste- 
rious dream, in whose passionate realization the barriers of 
race and rank are laughed to scorn. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

Ebba was soon installed in her household position. Lars 
fed the pigs, turned out the cow and then went to the old 
Fort and threw out his line from the rocky shore to catch 
the next mess of fish for the family; and while Brita and 
Gothild and Christina looked after Tod the goat as well as 
the ducks and geese and chickens, Ebba took charge of 
the younger children and talked and played with them till 
they all went sound asleep. Then the dishes having been 
washed and the housewor-k done, the little cabin for a 
time grew quiet, and Ebba had what seemed her first op- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 295 

portunity to leisurely examine the building in which she 
had come to reside. 

It was a story and a half log house divided into four 
rooms, the first floor comprising the chief living room and 
a smaller apartment serving at once as bed-room, parlor 
and guest chamber, while the .upper floor was partitioned 
into two sleeping rooms. Against the large living room 
and extending entirely across one side of it was an enorm- 
ous open fire-place joining a chimney built on the outside. 
This exterior chimney was the most conspicuous feature 
of the rude structure. It was constructed of a mixture of 
stone and rough strips of wood fitted at the crossing cor- 
ners and laid in a coarse cement of dried mud, lime and 
gravel, the whole being topped out at the smoky vent by 
a few layers of brick brought at first from Fort Orange, 
(Albany), New Netherlands, and renewed from the brick 
yard afterwards established at New Castle. The living 
room was in a measure a species of workshop and a gen- 
eral receptacle for miscellaneous articles pertaining to 
various avocations indoors and out; for in one corner by the 
fireside the master of the house, when at home, busied 
himself in the long evenings of the fall and winter in 
mending nets, dressing skins, patching leather garments 
and adjusting hunting implements, while the mistress plied 
the spinning wheel and made baskets of the beautiful 
marsh willows, besides looking after the multitudinous 
family mending, during which the older children sorted 
their various gatherings of herbs, arranged their stores of 
hickory nuts, chestnuts and hulled walnuts for drying 
and fussed gleefully with the many objects of youthful in- 
terest. 

Piled on the long mantel piece over the fire-place was a 
confused array of indescribable small articles, over the cen- 
tre of which was fixed a stag’s head with long branching 
antlers, the points of which afforded convenient means 
for suspending gourds, pumpkins and strings of red pep- 
pers, dried apples and various articles of use and orna- 
ment,, while suspended horizontally over all was the 
rusty old musket which had been carried by the family 
ancestor at the siege and surrender of old Fort Christina. 
Cut through the logs of another side of the living room 
were two small square windows which dimly admitted 
light into the low cumbered interior. Along the third 
side of the room ascended the creaking stairway under 
which were the oaken cupboard holding the family dishes 
and coarse utensils, by the side of which ran the rough 


296 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


oaken bench whereon the children ranged themselves and 
under which playful kittens jostled the sleepy solemnity of 
old Shaggy, the house dog, and disturbed his philosophi- 
cal contemplation of the household transactions. 

Such in brief was the humble abode whose rude out- 
ward appearance was at times made savagely grotesque by 
the skins of bears, beavers and other fur-bearing animals 
stretched for drying upon every available space of the 
exterior logs, while the interior, though affording most of 
the essentials for rough bodily comfort, presented rude 
walls of log surface with mud fillings between, except as 
hidden by old furniture or humble. pictures of fatherland 
or. scriptural subjects. The house was one of the few 
remaining structures of the original village of Christi- 
nehamn which clustered about fort Christina and it now 
formed part of a more scattered settlement about the 
banks of the Christina, Brandywine and Shelpot creeks. 
Its original occupants had not been disturbed in their 
possession of the premises by the Dutch siege of the fort; 
nor had they been molested by the conquerors beyond the 
destruction of an occasional pig or duck by the more law- 
less of the besieging forces. The little dwelling stood 
near the intersection of Seventh Street with the track of 
the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad in 
Wilmington, and, with a position about midway between 
the Brandywine and Christina creeks, had convenient 
access to either stream. 

Here Ebba soon felt herself thoroughly domiciled and the 
lengthening days wore quietly away. Very much alike, in- 
deed, seemed their unruffled course, except that the twi- 
lights gradually lengthened, the fields grew greener and 
the forests darker in verdurous array. Day by day the 
children grew less afraid and more fond of their fine new 
cousin. All things great and small which engrossed their 
little world of 3^outhful hopes and fears were coming to be 
confided to her first of all: for while they yet had a 
certain feeling of respectful awe toward her, she was every 
day winning her way to their hearts by such heart}^ 
sympathy mingled with her instruction and reproof as 
rendered her both mistress and companion to them. 

And now such was their youthful absorption in the new 
cousin that even th^ return of “ the father ” began almost 
to lose something of the mysterious charm it had once 
possessed. Nevertheless, this event was found to still re- 
tain its glad importance when news came that he would be 
home the second week after Trinity Sunday. With Ebba’s 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


297 


presence the time passed faster than they expected ; and 
now the coveted Sabbath is at hand, and the children are 
to be made to look as trim and nice as possible to go to 
Crane-hook church, where the Magister Jakobus Fabricius 
is to conduct the services after a longer absence than 
usual. 

“ Not as I think it’ll be any great privilege,” said aunt 
Signild aside to Ebba, ” for betwixt ye and me this Dutch 
Magister Fabricius, what with his going so much afore the 
courts with worldly suits and mixin’ so much with fleshly 
doings, methinks he is more concerned with the law than 
the gospel.” 

“Is he, then, your regular or only pastor ?” asked Ebba. 

“Well, there’s our old Swedish Pastor Lock — I mean 
Rev. Laurentius Laers ; most Swedes on the river side 
seemed long to want him back as their regular minister, 
but I confess I scarce can see why, for though he hath not 
a bad heart, from the earliest days he was ever prone to 
get himself into needless trouble by say in’ and doin’ 
things, not wicked perchance, but ' scarce befitting his 
sacred robes. When that Jacob Jough, twenty year ago, 
stole away his wife and everybody pitied the poor pastor, 
what must he do but make himself a law-breaker by 
burstin’ open Jough’s trunk huntin’ evidence agin’ him, 
for which they made him pay the debts Jough had run 
away from. And then he must ask to marry again in less 
than a month, and when he didn’t get permis.sion at once 
what must the man do but go and marry himself to a 
young girl of seventeen ; then he married other couples 
unlawfully and got himself mixed up with the Long Finn 
insurrection: and — ” 

” But, aunt Signild, in all these matters was not your 
pastor Lock sorely tried with difficulties ? May he not 
have thought he was acting for the best at the time?” 

“Oh, indeed, yes: for as I was a sayin’, he was e’er- 
more wantin’ in good judgment than goodness o’ heait, 
and his doctrines always seemed sounder than his doin's ; 
but e’en in these, methinks, he was oft-times too much 
blamed ; for, dear heart alive ! when a father is left with 
motherless children it’s hard to say he’s too fa.st in takin’ 
another wife, even if he does take too young a one ; for he 
hadn’t many older maids to choose from : and it was a 
sin and a shame to make him suffer for the sins o’ the 
thief who robbed him of his wife, as if he hadn’t lost 
enough by the robbery. But do as he would we were glad 
enough to have any pastor at all, for ye must know that 


298 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


for e’er so years our Reverend Lock was the onl}^ 

pastor we had in all this blessed river.” 

” Well, but aunt, you hav’nt yet told me whether you 
have now a regular settled pastor and who he is ?” 

” I’m cornin’ to that, child, as fast as e’er I can. And 
so as I was a-sayin’ — let me see, where was I — ah yes; 
well for e’er so long the Rev. Laurentius Lokenius, our 
pastor Lock, was the only minister through all this 
country-side, and he had to serve as best he could all the 
up-river settlers at Tinicum and all the Swedes and Dutch 
about Christina and New Castle; and so for weeks at a 
time we had no services at Crane-hook because pastor 
Lock had so much to do. which to be sure was much his 
own fault; for when the Tinicum congregation called Rev. 
Abelius Eetscoven, parson Laurentius was so fierce and 
loud agin’ him that the new minister was kept away, and 
’twas only by threatening pastor Lock with a protest that 
the Rev. Zetscoven was allowed to preach at the request 
of the Swedish commissioners; and well I remember the 
time, for ’twas the last Monday of Pentecost, and a blessed 
day of grace was it, and we all went to — ” 

” Yes, aunt, but — ” 

” And well, as I was a-sa\in’, we had only pastor Lock 
for all our South River Swedes and Hollanders for ever so 
long; but after awhile the congregations growed bigger 
and more of ’em and so they sent to New Amsterdam for 
Magister Jakobus Frabicius, and he came over and 
preached his first sermon on Trinity Sunday in the block 
house fort at Wicacoe; and so then we had two pastors on 
the river, one Swede and one Hollander; but though the 
two languages was a-growin’ more mixed, the Swedes and 
Finns were sore perplexed to understand the new priest 
Fabricius, who is a Dutchman, and they long strove for a 
Swedish pastor: but gettin’ weary of the strife they at last 
sent a petition to the Honorable Governor to settle the 
dispute by dividin’ the river into two parishes, so that all 
above Verdritige Hook should remain under charge of 
pastor Lock and all below it come under the pastorate of 
Magister Fabricius; and Hendrick Jansen and Peter 
Velcker and many others have petitioned for confirmation of 
this settlement; and so I suppose we have the Hollander 
Fabricius for our fixed pastor; and for the matter o’ that 
there ain’t much choice betwixt the two pastors; for 
though the Dutchman is fond o’ law suits and finds his 
way to trouble enough and was e’en in times past so quar- 
relsome that they had to forbid his conductin’ church ser- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


299 


vices, he has grown much better in his old age e’en as 
King Solomon did in his; and even in his hot-headed days 
he took care not to break the law by performin’ his own 
marriage ceremony, and he had sefise enough not to 
marry a child-wife of seventeen as pastor Lock, did, but 
took the widow of Sneaf Dircks Van Bergh, who was a 
woman of experience and brought him trials enough at 
home to hinder him from seekin’ ’em among his neigh- 
bors; and so I hope we’ll get along bravely with our 
Magister Fabricius, for withal, indeed, I believe him a 
good man with ever the best intentions, e’en though he 
has sometimes unlawfully married hot-hearted couples 
who wonld’nt be put off; and I don’t think much the worse 
of him for assaultin’ that sassy Mary Jansen, who pro- 
voked him with her scoldin’ tongue, and if more o’ the 
jawin’ women o’ these here settlements was served the 
same way it might be better for them and their husbands; 
for we can’t expect all men to be Jobs of patience, and we 
ought’nt to expect too much of our sufferin’ pastors in this 
here savage land, nor be too particular about their doin’ s 
so long as they preach sound doctrines accordin’ to the 
unchangeable Augsburg confession; and this to be sure 
pastor Fabricius ever will do. e’en though it be not always 
up to our Swedish notions of faith, which may be because 
the poor man’s bodily blindness, which grows apace, e’en 
affects his spiritual insight; for our dear Sweden and the 
great Gustavus did defend — ” 

“ But how do we reach, then, this Crane-hook church?” 
enquired Ebba, by' way of changing the subject. 

” That depends upon wind and tide, which wait not 
e’en upon the professors of the true faith. In former days 
Uncle Gabe always took us by water, sometimes all the 
way out round the fast land to the river front and landed 
us close to the church. At other times he took us the 
back way over the shallows to the nearest fast land beyond 
the cove, and then we walked the other half way to the 
church; but since the court ordered rules and regulations 
for the ferry which was started across the Christeen here 
year afore last, we often now get set over to the fast land 
opposite and walk all the way round to- Crane-hook.” 

‘ ‘ The church seems to be in an inconvenient place 
away from settlements and roads. I wonder ’twas built 
there.” 

“Oh, as to that, we’ve .scarce any roads yet anywhere 
in these parts. The church was put where it is to oblige 
the folk in New Castle as well as in Christeen; for that 


300 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


matter to suit all the river-side; for after our surrender to 
the Hollanders nigh twenty-seven year ago our old chapel 
in the fort went to ruin and our village Swedes mostly 
scattered theirselves along the shores o’ the river and 
creeks round about, and they all go to church in their 
boats from far and near.” 

” Where, then, are the other churches?” 

” There wer’nt no others when Crane-hook was built, 
except at Governor Printz’s settlement on Tinnicum island. 
Then as New Castle got bigger they soon started what 
they call Christ Church in that town and engaged Emilius 
De Ringh as their reader; then five years ago, by order of 
Governor Andross, the Upland court had the old Block 
House at Wigcacoe fitted up as a place of worship, where 
our Rev. Fabricius was first called as pastor; and I’ve 
heerd it said that this dissentin’ sect called Baptists put in 
from an English vessel at Cape May and started a church 
there some seven year ago. These be all the worshippin’ 
places I know of on all this South river, without, niaj^hap 
ye call the huddlin’s o’ these outlandish Quakers real wor- 
ship. If them mopin’ unbelievers may be reckoned as 
worshippers, we have many more churches, for as I hear 
they meet together at each other’s. onconsecrated houses 
and carry on their queer service by settin’ still with their 
hats and bonnets on and ne’er sayin’ a word. So the}^ 
pretend to worship, they tell me. among Fenwick’s broad- 
brims over at Swamptown, which they call Salem, and so 
they carry on up at Rancocas and Shackamaxon and Bur- 
lington. But methinks it a sin and a shame that this vir- 
gin land must be cumbered and poisoned with stubborn 
non-conformists and scoffers and sich like when ministers 
of the true faith have sorry make-shift to live; for the 
New Castle court had e’en to force parishoners to pay 
their dues to their reader De Ringh, and only last year 
our Rev. Fabricius petitioned that the wardens be ordered 
in like manner to make sure of his promised maintenance. 
Its some comfort, anyway, that these Quakers get nothin’ 
for what costs them nothin’ and what amounts to nothin’ 
in their matters o’ worship. Quiet and peaceful they claim 
to be, but that pesky Fenwick is the qiiarrelsomest peace- 
lover, methinks, that ere mixed with saints or sinners; 
though to be sure we ought’nt to judge harshly of our err- 
ing feller mortals; and they do say that there is no kinder, 
juster or better man than Robert Wade, that Upland 
Quaker who quit the Feiiw.ck settlement; and so as I was 
a-sayin’ — ” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


30 


And the garrulous old dame, with newly awakened 
memories, rattled on through an ever-widening retrospec- 
tion of her long colonial life. She was one of the most in- 
telligent members of the quiet settlement; she had lived 
through the several forced changes in its national rulers 
and had made the most of her large experience and small 
opportunities. Ebba did not again interrupt the speaker 
with enquiries; for she found herself carried along with 
the gathering current of her talk and became more and 
more interested in the shrewd observations and descriptive 
vivacity from which she derived both amusement and in- 
formation. 


CHAPTER XETII. 

“Why, bless their hearts!’’ exclaimed aunt Signild, 
“ain’t these children up yet? Here’s the sun been shinin’ 
two blessed hours over them Jarsey woods and not yet 
a sight or squeak of a single tow-head of ’em. Well, well! 
and they was to be up all so bright and airly this Sunday of 
Holy Trinity and be ready for church. I say there, ye 
sleepyheads!’’ and the old dame call vigorously upstairs; 
“you lazy Hans! come Brita, Brita! come Mons and 
Gothild and Christeen ; come get ye up — get up all of ye at 
once: breakfast’s most ready and Uncle Gabe ’ll soon be 
here: hurry now, or you’ll be late to church.” 

The old dame, in her eager purpose, had called aloud in 
a continuous strain without pausing for reply. When she 
ceased, an utter silence followed, and with a vexed excla- 
mation of surprise the old matron repeated the summons 
in a louder voice. Still there was no response. 

“ What meaneth this ?’ ’ she asked impatiently. “Not 
even Ears ? — will nobody hear or heed me ? And where is 
Ebba — where is our Swedish new-comer ?’’ There was a 
touch of hasty indignation in the well-worn voice, and as 
its owner was about to ascend to the upper story there was 
a sudden vision of a flaxen head at the window and a 
group of noisy children, with a merry outcry, burst into 
the room. At once the look of half-chiding sternness left 
the grandma’s face as it was turned inquiringly from one 
to the other. Ebba had planned with the children fpr a 
little surprise to their grandmother on so important a day 
as Trinity Sunday. There was always much to be done 


302 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


on Sunday mornings to prepare the children for a good ap- 
pearance at church, and it was all important on this oc- 
casion to put the house in the best of order and provide 
a superior dinner for the probable entertainment of church 
attendants from a distance, and possibly even to afford 
hospitality to the pastor himself. At such times, as Ebba 
had already judged, her aunt must be liable to be fretted 
with her increased cares, and with a view to giving her aid 
and relief she had coaxed the children earlier to bed, and 
by prior arrangements, had managed to awaken and 
quietly dress the little ones before their grandmother was 
actively astir. And now as they huddled fresh and rosy 
in their clean dresses, the old woman held their cheeks in 
her rough hands and even bent down her relaxed features 
for some unwonted kisses. 

“ And now breakfast is ready for my spruce young com- 
pany,” proudly exelaimed the pleased dame; “draw 
round the table, my prim lads and lassies. But where is 
little Eric?” she enquired, as her eye quickly scanned 
their faces, “and where is — ” and the old lady rose 
with a re-clouded brow as she and Ebba made the simul- 
taneous discovery that some of the children were missing. 
They went to the door and looked in all directions, but the 
little ones were nowhere to be seen. Ebba in some alarm 
started in search in one direction and Lars in another. 
The latter, more familiar with their youthful propensi- 
ties, rightly guessed that the wanderers had gone off a 
short distance toward the Brandywine to the head of the 
Black Cat inlet. Like numberless older persons the little 
folks, kept inactive in their best clothes, had grown tired 
of being good where goodness consisted in doing nothing, 
and when the Tempter smiled to them through the bright 
sunshine, across a green field flecked with dandelions and 
buttercups, the sweet allurement was too much .for their 
childish resistence. When found by Lars, the youngest 
boy, with one pocket stuffed with yellow flowers, was try- 
ing to keep in the other a refractory toad which, as an ani- 
mated plaything, objected to the prison-house; young 
Eric, with a blackened face of grotesque ferocity, was 
busy constructing earthworks against the combined ^move- 
ment of Dutch and English enemies, while little Greta 
was making mud pies for the boy-warrior and provision- 
ing the fortress in the common cause. Soon they were 
joined by cousin Ebba and the young truants hustled up to 
the house, where in due time they were again made pre- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


303 


sentable, when the dela5^ed breakfast suffered speedy anni- 
hilation. 

“ And now we’ve got no time to lose,” said dame Sig- 
nild, ‘‘for Uncle Gabe ma}^ be here any minute; he’s got 
extra trips to make to-day and we must’nt keep him waitin’. 
Lars, my lad, run ye and spy across to find if his flag be 
yet streaming. ’Taint hardl}' 2Lny use flyin’ ours sich a day 
as this, for he knows we would’nt miss Trinity ser- 
vice; but ye better run up our signal to make sure 
of it.” 

Lars had been gone but a few moments in pursuance 
of these directions when he hurried back to report that 
Uncle Gabe was coming in his flat-bottom skiff straight 
over the flats. 

‘‘That means some walkin’ for us,” said dame 
Signild, ‘‘for he’ll set us over the cove. Come now, 
all.” 

The little folks having been marshaled in readiness, all 
hastened down the little easterl}^ slope to the water-cov- 
ered marsh at its foot, there to meet the scow-like skiff 
approaching over the shallows. 

‘ ‘ Goot morgen !” cried a cheery voice from the boat as 
it neared the shore. ‘‘ Der tide vas runnin’ fast oudt but 
mepbe of ve vas burt}^ quick a’ ready ve haf more vater as 
to row midt ofer der cove.” So saying the broad face of 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach beamed with hearty greeting as 
the burly Dutchman leaped ashore and assisted the 
party to enter his boat. Rowing due south across the hid- 
den channel of the Christiana and the submerged marsh 
beyond, they were landed on the circling edge of 
the fast lands between the Garesche mansion and the 
uplands near where the Lobdell Car Wheel Works are now 
situated. 

‘ ‘ I calls for you in frontd after schurch unt dakes 3"ou 
home rount by der rifer,” — with which promise the 
kindly Dutchman waved an adieu and pushed out upon 
his return, while the family party, taking a winding path- 
way, walked a half mile or more over gently rolling up- 
lands to Crane-hook church. It was a sweet balmy morn- 
ing; the scent of clover and buttercups was in the air; 
eager garlicky odors mingled with the dewy freshness of 
the pastures, and a Sabbath hush lay upon the fair spring 
landscape. 

It was much too early for service when they reached the 
church, and few people had yet arrived; but gradually the 
little crowd collected, and when the old bell which had 


304 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


long done varied service at Fort Altona now began to 
peal forth its mellow summons from Crane-hook, the peo- 
ple were seen coming from all directions. They came in 
boat-loads from the westerly shore southward, from Naa- 
man’s and Ole Fanzen’s creeks northward, from the Jer- 
sey shore b}" sail and row boats, from Salem creek below 
and Old Man’s creek above, and from the various inlets 
and water courses through the surrounding country. The 
population was 3^et confined chiefly to the banks of navig- 
able streams, but with extending settlements there began 
to be well-worn footpaths and half-blind cartways winding 
into the interior, through which the more inland settlers 
now sought their way to church. 

The people as they assembled stood about in groups or 
gathered under the noble buttonwood whose lifeless re- 
mains yet linger to point out to forgetting posterity a 
cherished worshipping place of Swedish and Dutch ances- 
tors. Under the growing shade of this wide-branching 
tree our little family party early huddled themselves to 
enjoy the beauty of the May morning and watch the as- 
sembling people. It was the earliest bell only which had 
3^et rung and there was still considerable time before ser- 
vice should begin. The people were in the habit of com- 
ing earl}^ to church, for it was the great social event of the 
little settlements; it was then that they exchanged neigh- 
borhood gossip, compared notes as to trade and crop pros- 
pects, discussed their hunting and fishing interests and 
vented at once their accumulated small talk and their 
weightier views touching colonial and church affairs. 

Ebba heeded all that she saw and heard with ever 
deepening attention; the scented air of May, the broad 
bright river, the odd costumes of flaxen-haired Swedes 
and fat-faced Dutch, were all fraught with novel interest 
for her. Even the rude log church was not without a cer- 
tain attraction; for although then but fifteen 3^ears old it 
had already lost something of the look of repulsive new- 
ness inevitable in the youngest settlements; for some 
thoughtful and tender hand had there planted clinging 
honeysuckles and rose bushes, and softened its rough face 
by training vines partially over its bare walls, which with 
the far-reaching arms and grateful shade of the stately but- 
tonwood had imparted some of the mellowing effects of 
kindly time. 

But perhaps nothing now interested Ebba more than the 
manners of the people and the odd comminglings of their 
Dutch, Swedish and English idioms, which in ever vary- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


305 


ing phraseology marked their familiar conversation. To 
much of this she was a compelled listener. For the 
long residence of aunt Signild had brought her a wide 
circle of acquaintances, who came promptly now, as 
soon as they arrived, to greet the much respected matron, 
and then stood near by in busy chat. 

‘‘Hail now, dame Signild,” cried a brusquely spoken 
man with a red face and loud husky voice, ” why, thou’rt 
as young and fresh lookin’ as thirty year agone and surely 
art good for e’en thirty year more.” 

” Thank ye,” replied theniadam in a rather curt under- 
tone; for aside from his suspiciously crimsoned face she 
had strong reasons for believing the man a very hard 
drinker; “I’m sorry I can’t give back as good as I git; 
for whether lookin’ young or old, fresh or frouzy, 
methinks a body need’nt want to live thirty year longer 
hereabout without we mend our ways. The way folks is 
givin’ theirselves up to lazy and drunken habits — to vile 
carousin’s and awful drinkin’, day and night! it’s gittin’ 
to be scandalous and sinful unbearable !” 

“ Think ye, then, the people be growin’ into more and 
worse drunkeness?” 

“Well, to be sure they was bad enough in the early 
days when the soldier lads in both forts New Amstel and 
Christina, used to drink up a month’s pay in a night’s 
debauch, and the people got sich a crazy thirst for liquor 
that they nigh about starved theirselves by distillin’ all 
their grain into whiskey; and they kept gittin’ so idle and 
besotted year after year, that when the English come in 
the Governor was at last besought to forbid the distillation 
of grain altogether as ye know.” 

“ Well, did that mend matters?” 

“ Not very much, for they could ’nt entirely stop the 
turnin’ o’ grain into strong drink; and there could’nt have 
been any great improvement, methinks; for only seven 
year ago, you’ll remember, when that preacher Edmund- 
son and his Quaker company came to New Castle, the 
whole town was so drunk that the visitors could’nt find 
food or lodgin’ for love nor money, though they offered 
both plentifully. Now I call that disgraceful, though to 
be sure, they might a’ turned away better folks than them 
Quakers, even with Wade, the best of the sect, among ’em. 
But Jew or Gentile, saint or sinner, bed and board are 
ne’er denied wayfarers e’en in heathen lands, though they 
come nigh it in drunken ones. ’ ’ 

“Aye, aye, madam,” replied a by-standing burgher, 

20 


3o6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ well I mind me o’ that matter, and if it had’nt a’ been 
that Capt. Cantwell, when applied to by the Quakers, 
commanded the keeper of an ordinary to open his doors to 
them and offer the best he had, the pilgrims would have 
been denied the common cheer which no pagan or wild 
man in our woods refused to strangers; and e’en as ’twas, 
the visitors might have fared ill enough if Cantwell had’nt 

promised to supply everything that was needed.” 

“Whether from drinking, laziness or what,” said 
another, “grain of all kinds is getting mighty scarce. 
Two years ago the court, ye know, presented the Gover- 
nor the request of our planters that as they had no wheat 
they might be allowed to pay their quit-rents in tobacco at 
two pence a pound; and we found it no easy matter at 
that, for we were several times summoned, you know, be- 
fore we could settle.” 

“ For my part,” said a man of hesitating speech, “since 
so many people have come in and killed off the beavers so 
much, it’s hard to tell what a body should do for a liveli- 
hood. Tobacco growin’ is hard on the best soil and with 
poorer crops and poorer prices we’ll soon be losin’ all our 
profits.” 

“ Yes, and the Lord only knows what we’re all a-comin’ 
to,” burst forth a whining voice from an elderly bent per- 
son with a cadaverous countenance, who had reserved 
himself for a choice opening for his share of talk; “I 
h’ ain’t much to say about the drunkenness or the good or 
bad ways of folks, for it’s all one in a sharp deal, and the 
end proves all; but what I tell ye I knows; and what is 
that, ask ye? Well ’ tain’ t no use; for here we got New 
Castle favored with New York, being charged onl}^ two 
per cent, customs agin five per cent, paid higher up, and 
then we got all tradin’ vessels stopped entirely from goin’ 
above New Castle on the river; and then they took off all 
custom duties, and now ships loaded with these Quakers 
and their supplies is passin’ up every month or so to settle 
all this river above us, and our trade is all ruined; and 
they say King Charles has granted all this upper countr}^ 
to a big Quaker named Penn! Aye, aye, ye may stare 
away, but ’tis e’en worse than that, for word has come 
across that this same high Quaker Penn, who is a very 
rich man, will soon buy from the Duke of York all the land 
on this side o’ the river and bay, includin’ our settlements 
and stretching clean down to the cape below Whorekills!” 

‘ ‘ Think you we can believe all that ? where heard ye 
such strange things?” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


307 


“’Taint no odds where I heered ’em, and ye can believe 
me or believe me not, but as sure as ye stand gapin’ here 
’tis every word true as gospel; and John Moll and Ephraim 
Hermann’ 11 tell ye so, for they be the Duke’s attorneys, 
and they’ll have to hand over his whole domain, stick and 
stone, ways, woods and waters to this William Penn when 
he comes, and he’sa-goin to send over shipload arter ship- 
load of his Quaker followers to o’errun this land and 
crowd us out of our homes. ’ ’ 

Pausing with a triumphant leer, as the speaker observed 
the effect of his words in the wondering eyes and rising 
anxieties of his listeners, the old man, seemingly flattered 
with his success, continued in a tone of impressive indig- 
nation; 

“ Talk o’ drunkenness and carousals ! talk o’ scarcity o’ 
beavers and failin’ crops o’ tobacco and grain ! talk o’ 
growin’ wolf-ravages and threatened outbreaks o’ the wild 
red-skins ! talk o’ all o’ the common ills that is past, and 
put ’em by the side o’^the woes that’s a-comin’ ! ! Now I 
ain’t a young man; some o’ ye have knowed me, boy and 
man, through most o’ the days o’ these settlements under 
Swede, Dutch and English rule, — some o’ ye may know 
how perticelar I was with the catechism in my young days 
and how I’ve allers had family prayers, read the Holy 
Scripturs and tended the true church of the Augsburg 
faith; and now what I’ve got to say is, if all o’ this don’t 
stay the growin’ evils — if the prayers o’ the righteous can’t 
prevail agin’ the inroads o’ these Quaker heretics — if sech 
encroachin’ disturbers and human vermin must crowd out 
the children o’ the Lord and spoil the fat profits o’ our 
Christian traffic, then things has come to a perty pass. 
If we — ’’ 

. “ Nay, Job Blinckenheim,’’ interposed dame Signild, 
“ ye should na’ talk so; to forget the blessings we have is 
to invite the vengeance of Providence. I can’t abide 
these Quakers much better than you, but from what I hear 
they be far better in practice than in profession, and sure 
there is room enough for all in this vast wilderness with- 
out frettin’ each other by close jostlin’s.” 

“ Besides,’’ spoke a modest voice from half behind aunt 
Signild, “William Penn will give to all others the same 
right to land and religion which he confers upon his own 
people ; and he will be so kind and just in his treatment of 
the red men that there will likely be no further trouble 
with them. 

Ebba had been so absorbed in the conversation that she 


3o8 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


had not noticed the casual glances she had attracted, and 
her remark now drew such general attention to her pres- 
ence that some hurried introductions followed. 

“ Oh, yes,” said a cheery-voiced optimist, resuming the 
discussion, “ we have surely much to be thankful for : we 
are slowly improving in our clothing, in our food, in our 
houses and I hope in our morals : we are blessed with all 
reasonable means for comfort, and above all we are hav- 
ing better health : and if we shall live more temperately 
and persevere in dyking our marshes I doubt not we shall 
escape most of the wasting fevers which have afflicted us 
in the past.” 

“As for dykin' and buildin’ highways over swamps, 
there’s two sides to that matter,” replied Job Blincken- 
heim, “and it’s a outrageous shame the way we’re all 
ordered to go to work drainin’ private marshes on public 
pleas.” 

“ But if private owners,” said another, “chance to be 
benefited by public dyking?” 

“That is more often a make-vSbiift than a fact,” said 
Anders Derickson, “ and I think our pastor Fabricius was 
not to blame for that disturbance when he and John Ogle 
refused to help make Hans Block’s dyke.” 

“ Speaking of the Rev. Jacobins, is it not about time 
he was — ah, yonder comes our pastor, and ’tis well he’s 
with Peter Yelcker, for the poor man’s sight seems to be 
fast failing him and he grows more gentle as ” — 

The words were cut short by the sounding of the final 
bell for the beginning of service, and the people entering 
the building as the pastor approached, went to their al- 
lotted seats. Soon they were hushed in expectant silence, 
and then began that Lutheran form of worship which, 
whether in rustic chapel or stately cathedral, is ever 
marked by a chaste commingling of lifting joy with sol- 
emn majesty. Entering the pulpit. Pastor Fabricius read 
in a well-modulated voice those beautiful words, “The 
Lord is in his holy temple ; let all the earth keep silence 
before him. ’ ’ Then followed the special service assigned to 
Trinity Sunday, including readings from the fourth chapter 
of Revelations and the third of St. John, together with a 
short sermon on both doctrinal points and the need of a 
godly life. The pastor’s failing eye-sight obliged him to 
hold his manuscript and prayer-book so close to his face 
that his features were much obscured, yet it was not diffi- 
cult to discern in them the plump ruddy countenance of 
the typical Hollander, bronzed by constant exposure to 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


309 


the fresh winds and fiery sun of the New World ; and 
Ebba found a curious interest in observing how oddly the 
Dutch language was modified to the comprehension of 
Swedish worshippers with the use of occasional English 
words by way of compromise or exemplification. 

The services had not progressed far before Ebba, by a 
chance side glance, encountered the gaze of a peculiar 
face intently fixed upon her. She had caught a quick 
stare from the same strange face in the outside group be- 
fore entering the church, and the second surprise betrayed 
her into an involuntary start. The features were those of 
a man browned by labor and exposure, and exhibited a 
puzzling mixture of youth and age with an odd expres- 
sion indicative at once of stolidity and observation, cun- 
ning and candor; but what was more obvious to a casual 
observer was a quaintness of costume less marked b}' 
wear than by a style so old as to recall generations of for- 
gotten fashions. 

Quickly withdrawing her wandering eyes Ebba gave her 
attention more intently to the servfice, but in a few mo- 
ments found herself so unguarded as to inadvertently 
catch another sight of the strange face. Still the same 
fixed stare ! Chiding herself for suffering her attention to 
be thus misdirected, she averted her thoughts with re- 
newed determination. It was no use; she was soon con- 
scious of the same haunting stare, and when her devotions 
were disturbed by a third vision of the spectre her cheeks 
tinged with indignant self-reproof. 

As she moved out of church with the dismissed congre- 
gation, a tall figure stood sentinel with the same stony 
glare. Dame Signild, with a stern shake of her head, 
stepped quickly as with a purpose of protection, and beck- 
oned to Gabriel Van Onkelbach, who had kindly come for 
the party according to promise. Placing Ebba and the 
children in his hearty charge, the old madam bestirred 
herself to secure guests for dinner. In the course of her 
endeavors she more than once heard a loud voice from the 
lips of the glaring face as if answering questions, to the 
effect that its owner had not been invited to dinner, and 
had no conveyance homeward. But the dame did not 
take the hint, and finding that pastor Fabricius and others 
from a distance had already been provided for, she took 
possession of two plain diffident planters who had come 
from up beyond the Brandywine. 

Passing over the lawn-like bank to the mooring place, 
the party embarked in the graceful yacht of which its 


310 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


owner was justly proud. The falling tide revealed the 
tops of reeds and docks growing from shallows whose de- 
posits have since accumulated into a broad, grassy belt di- 
viding the river current from the fastland. 

“Now, Bot,” said Uncle Gabe to his boy assistant, 
“ Midt vind und tide dead aheatd, ve git der schans to 
schow our seamanship.” 

Pluckily they struggled to overcome the opposing ele- 
ments, and with repeated feats of skillful tacking they 
rounded into the Christina and beat up homeward. Within 
the sloping banks of the creek the falling flood had re- 
treated, and the high- water-bay over which they had 
come en route to church, was now a breadth of exposed 
marsh on either hand. Through this they so slowly 
pushed their winding course against the strong tidal cur- 
rent that it was much past noon when they reached their 
fastland home. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

The fallen waters having made it impossible to return 
to the sloping shore from which the party had embarked 
for church, they pushed a trifle further up the creek and 
rounded into a little natural dock or cove under shelter of 
the rocky headland so linked with historical memories. 
As they slowly approached the ruined ramparts. Fort 
Christina lay green under the regal calm of a resplendent 
noon, and from the bolder slope above May-day odors 
floated down to them in welcoming exuberance. 

The children, upon being aided to the top bank, 
scampered in advance along the familiar pathway to the 
old log home. The two guests followed slowly, awaiting 
Ebba and her aunt who were detained a moment by their 
friendly guide to be reminded of the coming assemblage 
at his island home. As he pushed out now to return there 
he called aloud to repeat his assurance that “ Of ye vas 
reaty I gomes to fetch ye mit te efening flood at der full.” 

The two women, speedily overtaking the sauntering 
guests, followed on home; and while Ebba entertained 
the visitors, her aunt with Lars and the oldest girl 
vigorously applied themselves to the preparation of 
dinner. Ebba’s task proved the more difficult of the two. 
Honest backwoodsmen, the awkward fellows had led a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


311 

plodding lonely life and seemed painfully abashed in the 
presence of the gifted lady fresh from the adored father- 
land. With her utmost tact it was long before Ebba 
could elicit more than timid monosyllables from the 
bashful rustics. But at length she began to see that her 
skill was not to go unrewarded, and when her efforts were 
supplemented by the effects of a bountiful dinner, with 
home-brewed ale, the honest guests left with a grateful 
sense of emancipation, feeling hardly more surprised at 
their own loss of constraint than at the apt familiarity 
exhibited by their entertainer with matters touching their 
own daily life and occupation. 

When they had gone Ebba v^entured to enquire of her 
aunt respecting the strange man with the staring face 
whom they had seen at church. 

“ Oh, he’s a miserly bachelor with more boldness than 
brains and as mulish as he is miserly, as ye’ll find out 
soon enough.” The old lady spoke with an amusing toss 
of her head and an imitative tone of voice. 

” ’Twas easy to see my aunt’s dislike of the man from 
her scant courtesy toward him.” 

” Oh, as to that,” replied the dame, ” I did’nt mean to 
be rude, but there’s no fear but he’ll make hisself known 
soon enough, and I wanted to fetch on the deservin’ ones 
as is too modest to push theirselves for’ard.” 

” The couple we brought were modest enough, surely — 
possibly more modest than amusing, but I fancy the 
strange creature would have been more easily entertained 
if not entertaining.” 

” Entertained ! entertain Nic. Knight? He won’t be en- 
tained as ye call it. He must do all o’ that hisself, and a 
body talkin’ to him ’ll be lucky to get in a word sidewise; 
why that man’s got conceit enough to think hisself higher 
than a king on his throne and better than the angels in 
heaven &itertain Nic. Knight ! when ye do it ye can 
see blue snow in the dog-days. And no more can ye give 
him a hint, for he won’t take it without ye deal a blow 
with it.” 

“ Is he then a bad man, aunt?” 

‘ ‘ Well no, 'tain’t for me to sayjust that; it’s thickness 0’ 
hide more'll badness o' heart that troubles Nic. He is 
both honest and industrious, and so everlastin’ savin’ that 
he is quite well off in this world’s goods; and he's not with- 
out some sense, as ye may guess by his gettin’ hold o’ 
property, if he A so stingy with it, and sets o’er much 
store by it, though to be sure that’s partly because he’s 


312 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


got no wife to teach him better; and this he has sense 
enough to see hisself, and so he has been tr 3 dn’ to get a 
wife for fifteen j^ear and ne’er a new girl has come into 
any o’ these settlements that he has’nt made up to; and 
that’s why he stared at you so long and hard at church. 
Why, bless ye, if I had’nt a’ headed the man off a little 
he’d a’ been starin’ at ye here this minute as well as future 
minutes and hours without end; not that I want to hinder 
ye from doin’ yonr own likin’, thinkin’ or actin’ con- 
cernin’ men and things; but there’s no hurry when it 
comes to a man like Nic. Knight, for he’s always read)- 
and always willin’, and all the more so the oftener the 
maids refuse him; for his rebuffs seem only to widen his 
experience and exalt his importance. To be .sure, it seems 
hard that while the court allowed Evert Hendricks to 
have two wives Nic can’t get one; and a body ought'nt to 
blame the man if only he had any sort o’ notion how long 
to persevere and when to stop pesterin’. Now, there’s 
dame Anderson’s moon-faced Meg; that lass with her fair 
shin and massy hair is a sort o’ beauty even if she hath a 
little cross in her eyes and is less troubled with mind or 
manners; why, no leach e’er stuck to a bod}^ closer than 
Nic followed that girl, and may be he’d a’ won her if 
Rupe Fairfield, that showy Virginian, had’nt come along 
jist then and cut him out; and so that mishap hath made 
the poor man more bent on courtin’ and more confident in 
his courtship than e’er afore. What bluffs other men onl}’ 
baits him on to fresh venturs. No, there’s no fear but 
^^'^’ll see enough of Nic. Knight; 1 wonder he has already* 
s!:.i\^ed away so long, and I onh^ wish now to get my 
week’s washin’ and ironin’ done afore he takes possession o’ 
the house.” 

Once fairly started the old dame was not disposed to 
limit the range of her topics, but in response to queries 
from Ebba, who at times sought to vary the theme, ran on 
with gathering volubility, and that young lady once more 
found herself impressed with her aunt’s close observation 
and racy descriptions of persons and events pertaining to 
the primitive settlement. Included as subjects of such 
discussion were, of course, various other members of the 
little group at Cranehook to whose gossipping talk she had 
that day listened while awaiting church services. In 
this she was not surprised to hear Job Blinckenheim alluded 
to as a ‘‘barterin’ hyociite,” and while Ebba could not 
but feel flattered at hearing persons classified or judged 
according to her own prior intuitions, she was specially 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


313 

delighted at the charitable discernment which enabled 
aunt Signild to do cordial justice to the simple virtues 
which seemed to characterize most of the people. 

Nor was the old madam wrong in her prophetic antici- 
pation respecting a visit from Mr. Knight, as Ebba soon 
found out. A few evenings after this, in order to obtain 
a better view of a promising sunset, she went westwardly 
a short distance up the gentle slope above the house and 
took a position under one of the noble walnut trees, 
then growing in and near what is now the grave-yard of 
the Old Swedes Church. Here she beheld the sun go 
down in a blaze of glorv behind the western range of hills, 
and turning, watched the lingering light tinge the top of 
the woods on the easterly shore of the river. From vari- 
ous angles she observed the deepening after-glow upon 
the winding Christiana, and upon turning for a last west- 
ward gaze before returning to the house she caught sight 
of a tall figure marching toward her from a distance. 
From the stature and peculiar poise of the head she was 
not long in recognizing Mr. Knight as the approaching 
personage. He had not apparently observed her as yet, 
and as she was partially sheltered by intervening trees she 
had time and opportunity for some observation. Nor to 
lovers of antique oddities in pretentious apparel was the 
approaching figure unworthy of observation. With the 
broad plaited collars of the Elizabethan period and the 
embroidered top-boots of the gaudy Spaniard, were united 
the stiff lines of the austere Puritan and the graceful folds 
of the Cavalier costumes. While little trace of an exist- 
ing fashion could ba discovered in the- whole make-up, 
there was an array of cast-off finery in every grotesque 
combination of color and form belonging to outlived styles, 
with a crowning wonder in the way of a hat, which was 
a ponderous bell-shaped covering defying the fashions of 
every age. 

Catching sight of Ebba he bent his stately steps toward 
her and lifting his formidable head-piece, bowed low in 
profound salutation. 

“ Perhaps, now,” he observed with sounding delibera- 
tion, “you don’t know who I be;” and failing to elicit 
other than an unreadable look by way of reply, he added 
in more imposing style, “ My name is — is Knight — Nico- 
demus Knight!” and the man stepped back and struck an 
attitude to contemplate the full effect of that announce- 
ment upon his listener. 

“Ye may have hearn o’ me,” he continued after a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


314 

pause, “most o’ folks do afore they’ve been about here 
many weeks; and if they hears the truth the}' hears that 
Nicodemus Knight is no common Dutchman f^etched in by 
the Dutch company for Dutch purposes o’ trampin’ and 
trade; if they hears the truth they hears that Nicodemus 
Knight is no pauper Swede or vagabond Finn as was cap- 
tured by old Stuyvesant and his Dutch hordes; if they 
hears the truth they hears that Nicodemus Knight is a 
free-born Briton as came in with Col. Richard Nicholls 
and the royal commission under grant from His Majesty 
King Charles II to his brother James Duke of York and 
Albany, with authority to take possession o’ all these 
Dutch claims as rightful English domain; if they hears the 
truth they hears as how Nicodemus Knight ne’er had oc- 
casion to hire horses or oxen from the Dutch company or 
grow tobaccer for sich traders on shares or let; if they 
hears the truth they hears as how Nicodemus 
Knight is a man o’ substance as keeps his own farm 
animals and abundance of ’em within his own fences; they 
hears that he don’t need to jine with your Garretsons and 
Andries and Stalcops and such to petition for marks on 
outrunnin’ hogs young or old; they hears as Nicodemus 
Knight is a man as don’t mix or meddle with his neigh- 
bors’ affairs; they hears that he’s a man as is not to be 
trifled with — a man as pays his own way and asks no 
favors; they hears as — ’’ 

The speaker suddenly ceased. In the fervor of his self- 
exalting eloquence he scarcely noticed that Ebba, after 
having politely intimated her wish to return to the house, 
had given decreased attention to his increasing speech, 
and he- now seemed to realize that he was closely follow- 
ing the retreating figure of the young lady. With a deep 
rich voice of rather mellow flexibility, a species of collo- 
quial oratory was one of his chiefest vanities. Having 
left England in early life, Nicodemus Knight oddly 
enough remained an Englishman in everything except the 
loyal misuse of the letter h; but for this deficiency, as may 
be guessed, he made ample amends of a linguistic char- 
acter and otherwise, not excepting that English propensity 
toward self-seclusion, which, while measurably separating 
him from his neighbors, was the more favorable to the 
growth of his peculiar oratory. An enormous cud of tobacco 
invariably bulged one or the other of his cheeks, and its 
nervous transfer between them, together with the swifter 
twirling of his thumbs, signalled the approach of one of 
his rhetorical spasms; while if the listener was not moved 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


315 


by the speaker’s eloquence he was pretty sure to be by 
the fearful emissions of tobacco spittle with which he 
began and interluded his colloquial orations. He was 
captivated with the sound rather than substance of that 
stately cadence of English public speech which culmi- 
nated in the next century with the oratory of Fox, Pitt 
and Burke. Furnishing his own applause, there were 
few things he liked better than to hear himself talk. He 
invariably conversed as if addressing an audience and 
when he was fairly started upon his swelling sentences 
he could hear or heed little that surrounded him and cared 
as little whether he had other hearers less appreciative 
than himself. 

But having stopped, he missed the linked stimulus of his 
sounding periods, and found it difficult to begin again ; 
and so after stammering several fruitless attempts Mr. 
Knight stalked on in silence. As they approached the 
house dame Signild called aloud from the garden. 

“ Ah, then, there ye be : and a rare brace of astray s ye 
are withal. Ebba, take Herr Knight into the house and 
keep him quiet until I come,” and the old madam’s face 
wore a roguish expression as she bustled about some out- 
side matters which the children had disordered. 

After entering the house the visitor sat bolt upright in 
utter silence. In the deepening twilight Ebba felt rather 
than saw that he was staring at her, and she underwent a 
repetition of her haunting sensation as experienced at 
church. Her repeated eftorts to engage Mr. Knight in 
conversation proved ineffectual, and to break the silence, 
which was growing unbearable, she proposed lighting the 
candles. Whether it was dread of more light, the desper- 
ation caused by waning opportunity or the mere rustle of 
Ebba’s dress in moving, the visitor at last found his tongue 
and suddenly blurted out, — 

“Hope ’twill be a clear day to-morrow,” with which 
reasonable wish Ebba shared by assenting silence. 

“If it’s a clear day to-morrow,” continued the visitor, 
“ I mean to break my youngest steers.” 

“ Yes?'’ responded Ebba, encouragingly. 

‘ ‘ Did ye never see young oxen broke ?” 

Ebba confessed she had never enjoyed that happiness. 

“ Why, these will be the third yoke o’ young oxen 
broke by me this spring, and they will be the handsomest 
pair o’ two-year-olds ye e'er set eyes on : and what’s more 
I’ve got a brace o’ colts two and three year old last Easter 
and Whitsuntide that come o’ the best blooded stock in 


3i6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


England : and what’s still more, I’ve got three milch cows 
and fifteen head o’ growing’ cattle ; and more yet, I’ve got 
a flock o’ twenty-one sheep and a drove o’ nine hogs, be- 
sides goats, poultry and feathered creaturs without end ; 
and what’s more ’n all, I own as fine a plantation, fastland 
and marsh, with as good a bunch of woodland as ye’ll find 
in all o’ these parts, and if jealousy and envy don’t blind all 
these small people to the simple truth, they’ll have to 
admit that Nicodemus Knight is the leadin’ planter and 
powerfullest husbandman in these settlements. Talk o’ 
boatin’ or fishin’ — talk o’ huntin’ or trappin’ or tradin’ par- 
suits — talk o’ any or all o’ these hirelings or small hand- 
to-mouth delvers or bigger pretenders by the side of a 
English yoeman and man o’ substance like Nicodemus 
Knight ! And would ye believe it, such a well-handed 
husbandman is a husband ne’er at all, but a man without a 
wife ? Would ye believe that a man with such property 
deigned to look down with favor upon the portionless 
daughter of dame Anderson — upon a doll-faced chit with 
a squint eye ! Would ye believe that when a Virginia gal- 
lant come round here with his fine clothes and flatterin’ 
discourse he turned the silly head o’ the blear-eyed heifer 
and made her kick her heels and toss her saucy head at 
me ! ! Believe it or believe it not, ’tis but the simple sor- 
rowful truth, and though it but served the jade right to be 
jilted by the bouncin’ cavalier, it is none the less a burnin’ 
shame that such deceivin’ creaturs with winnin’ ways and 
honey tongues should be allowed to run at large to make 
game o’ the unwary. Much of a piece be all such well- 
spoken rogues as make somethin’ out o’ nothin’, whether 
in the courts o’ love or law, and ne’er did our Governor 
and council a timelier or juster act than when five year 
ago they resolved and declared as read in open court at 
Upland, that pleadin’ attorneys were forbidden longer to 
practice in the government. If false pleadin’ lovers were 
prohibited their practices and all such professional mis- 
chief-makers turned over to justice there’ d be more honest 
folk as well as evil-doers to get their dues.” 

Once more in the full swing of his phrase-making Mr. 
Knight thus ran on. His sentences swelled in their 
sound and length as he proceeded, and in the course 
of his cumulative oratory, while widening his themes 
sufficiently to animadvert upon the character and con- 
duct of his neighbors in various directions, he con- 
tinued with special reference to their matrimonial relations, 
wherein he alluded in a tone of injured scorn to the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


317 


several maidens who had successively rejected his 
advances, and dwelt with equally jealous indignation upon 
the facility with which surveyor Wharton had not only 
found a wife but married himself to her, and upon the 
still greater hoggishness of Evert Hendricks in keeping 
two wives both living in Crane-hook, as well as upon the 
reprehensible conduct of the court in permitting such 
bigamous behavior on the pretence that justifying prece- 
dents for so scandalous a thing had been shown from 
Dutch and English authorities. 

Amid the gathering crescendos of his sentences the 
speaker suddenly ceased, and after an impressive pause 
dropped his voice to a low tremor as per the approved 
affectation^ of later oratory. 

“And now,” he continued, “if any one in these parts 
knows the difference betwixt persons o’ quality and the 
rabble o’ nobodies, I knows that difference; if anybody 
knows a born lady when he sees her, I knows sech a lady 
as I now see her; if anybody scorns to herd with common 
tolk, I scorns and washes my hands of sich: if any man 
can see through a sugar-tongued pretender from the South- 
when he comes a-usin’ his flatterin discourse around these 
parts, Nicodemus Knight is that man. He knows the 
lady o’ quality as would grace — as would preside fittin’ly 
o’er his house and home. Nicodemus Knight has said he 
was without a wife — he might a’ said he was in search o’ 
one — he might a’ said that he came here now to — ’ ’ 

The words were cut short by dame Signild, who at that 
moment bustled into the room to light the candles; upon 
completing which task she at once retired: but the speaker 
did not resume. Once stopped, the thread of his fervent 
discourse was broken; he must either speak in a gathering 
torrent or not at all; and so after an abortive attempt to 
resume, the visitor sat a moment in torturing silence and 
then with a bow of endangering profundity left the house. 
Ebba thought she caught some words from aunt Signild to 
the departing visitor to the effect that her niece had odd 
ways and a wayward fancy not suitable for the* wife of a 
practical yeoman of substance. In the gathering dusk she 
saw him disappear up the hill, but she did not know that 
the departing visitor was watched by a pair of keener eyes 
peering from the face of a dusky figure lurking behind a 
neighboring tree. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


318 


CHAPTER XLV. 

The day had arrived for the neighborly gathering at 
the home of Gabriel Van Onkelbach; and busy enough 
were dame Signild and her niece with their domestic ar- 
rangements. For although the house would be closed 
against the peering eyes of any chance visitor, it must be 
left in such order as to insure the peace and quiet 
the conscience of the tidiest of self-exacting house- 
keepers. 

In the full tide of their incompleted tasks the two busy 
women were thrown into a state of consternation by one 
of the children, who came running in with wasted breath 
to announce that Uncle Gabe had rounded into the 
Black Cat with full sail and was coming to the 
house. 

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed dame Signild, “why he 
was to come for us at the top flood, and sure it lacks two 
good hours o’ that tide yet; and now here we be ketched 
wi’ work undone and house untidied: dear, dear, what 
shall we — and truly methought Gabriel Van Onkelbach 
the very last man to do sech a thing, and — well — “ and 
the worthy dame lifted her bare arms and placing a hand 
on each hip balanced herself with a flushed expression of 
sore perplexity, as if mere words could do no sort of jus- 
tice to so momentous an occasion. “ Well, he shan’t 
worry me'' she resumed; “he’ll jest have to — ’’ 

“ Helb you mit all his might,’’ interposed a laughing 
voice as its merry-faced owner bounded into the room. 
“ Ongle Gabe vas von shappy fellow when he gomes zo 
zoon, for he tinks ze mesdams vill no lef der house till 
vork vas all done; und so he takes time by der forelocks 
mit two hours aheadt to see of he mighdt helb mit zome 
tings when you haf so much a’ready to do mit de schildren 
und efery tings.” 

“ Children !” exclaimed the old madam, “ Think ye I’ll 
fetch them along to craze ye wi’ their rattle and mischief? 
we’ll leave ’em home in care of Lars; they’ll be safe and 
good with him.’’ 

“ Ve tinks we should make old man of young Lars, — 
ye tinks der children must no get some fun, — ye gif deni 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


3^9 


no froligs mid Onkle Gape, no? I dtakes dem all! I 
calls dem first all, und den I helbsall to getreadty so quig 
as nefer vas — ” with which avowal the big-hearted fellow 
pushed for the door, and a round mellow voice was heard 
in a loud, jolly summons of Hans and Brita and Nils and 
Mons and Greta and Eric and Christine and all the rest of 
the young tribe of tow heads. 

“ Well, that’s the goodliest man in these territories,” 
said dame Signild, “or goodness gives no sign. If it be 
Christ-like to bid children to come unto you — if it be like 
Him to think last of self and do first for others, Gabriel 
Van Onkelbach’s a Christian, or dame Signild has lost her 
reckoning. He don’t profess o’er much, but a body must 
be soul-blind not to feel Uncle Gabe’s always a-doin’ what 
others is say in’ ought to be done.” 

This reference to the conduct and character of a person- 
age somewhat prominent in this narrative seems to offer a 
fitting occasion for presenting some further particulars re- 
specting him. Gabriel Van Onkelbach was a native of 
Delft in Holland. He was born to a considerable fortune; 
and with a view fo a professional career his father sent him 
to the celebrated university at Leyden, where he acquired 
a thorough education, including a mastery of the classics as 
well as of several modern languages. But before complet- 
ing his studies, a love of wild adventure and especially a 
patriotic thirst to share in the naval glory of his country 
suddenly impelled him into the service of that Admiral 
Van Tromp who was immortalized by his successive con- 
flicts with Spanish and English fleets and who made that 
memorable voyage up the British channel with a broom 
at his mast head in token of having swept his foes from 
the seas. Ardently attached to that heroic sea-fighter, 
young Gabriel shared his varying fortunes, gaining promo- 
tion for his gallantry, and continued in the service until 
that last conflict in 1653 off the Holland coast wherein he. 
lost an arm and his commander was killed. Joining in 
Van Tromp’s splendid burial services in Delft, Gabriel 
Van Onkelbach then entered the service of .the Dutch 
West India company, sailed for New Amsterdam in 1654, 
and the following year accompanied Director Stuyvesant 
in his expedition to the South River upon that bloodless 
siege of Fort Christina which has received humorous im- 
mortality in the pages of Washington Irving. 

From the parapet of the surrendered fort the young ad- 
venturer soon discerned about half a mile eastward a little 
mound of fastland which continued to bear its wooded sur- 


320 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


face above even the highest tides which submerged the 
surrounding marshes. With an area of about ten acres, 
the little elevation maintained a sort of amphibious exis- 
tence as a well-defined island at high water and a low 
sylvan hillock at ebb-tide. Studded with lofty forest 
trees it gladdened the eye as the sole break to the reach of 
waters which, at the daily tidal flood, widened to an inland 
bay washing the fort promontory and circular sweep of 
western uplands on the one hand, and the river shore of 
New Jersey on the other. There was a pathos in the 
lonely beauty of the little isle as it stemmed the assaulting 
floods, which won the heart of the Hollander; for it re- 
called the sore buffetings through which his own low-lyyig 
fatherland had secured an earthly foothold against the en- 
vious sea. It further suggested that Fatherland in having 
early attracted admirers with a capacity for uniting use 
with beauty. For according to the historian Companius 
the inlet was inhabited as early as 1642 by Dutch families 
of workmen, who besides building small sailing craft were 
busy in making tubs and casks, from which it de- 
rived thenameof “ Cooper’s Island. ” It*had been known 
to the Indians as Manathan, meaning simply “Island,” 
and by Europeans it was variously called Rylflacht, 
Plaines des Rosseau and Kyperolandet, by some one of 
which names the tiny spot was designated on most of the 
earliest maps of the country. 

The characteristics of the little isle so pleased the 
Dutchman hardly weaned from his native lowlands, that 
he resolved to make it his home. Here he built a log 
house to which he took a fair young wife, and here the 
pair lived a happy life free from the hap-hazard adven- 
tures of which the husband had grown weary. But it 
was a short-lived happiness; for the young wife fell 
an early victim to those malignant fevers which swept the 
infant settlements with special severity in the summer and 
fall of 1658. To the bereaved survivor the loneliness of 
his island home became unbearable, and he left it to 
seek relief by once more plunging into the distracting 
perils of naval warfare. The place was left in charge of 
a Dutch family, who there resumed that occupation of cask 
and tub making whose first prosecution forty years before 
distinguished the islet as the original seat of the mechanic 
arts on the Delaware. When in after years by the dyking 
of the marshes the spot lost its insular character, clusters 
of wild cherry trees sprang up on it. Hence gradually 
came “Cherry Island” as the name which in modern 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


321 


times is applied alike to the original upland swept by tidal 
water and to the drained marshland surrounding it. 

Re-entering the Dutch naval service Gabriel Van Onkel- 
bach shared for some years in the stirring achievements 
of Admiral DeRuy ter and then began to long for the far-off 
isle which was tenderly linked with memories of his lost 
wife. To this island home he soon came again, bringing 
with him a family of relatives, among whom were some 
skilled workers in boat building; and thenceforth to 
cooperage on the isle was again added the construction of 
small boats and various light sailing craft suited to the 
shoal navigation of the creeks and rivers along which the 
early settlers almost wholly lived. Gabriel never married 
again: but he sought to appease the cravings of warm 
filial affection by indulging his passionate love of child- 
ren. To the boys and girls of the neighborhood he 
became unspeakably endeared by making himself in 
divers ways their guide, father and companion, while 
toward the parents of the children he not less exercised 
his generous propensities as a peace-maker, and in 
nameless kindly services done as^ a sort of volunteer 
factotum for his more helpless neighbors, especially in 
sailing as a sort of chore-voyager for them upon errands 
to mill and store, and taking them to church, or upon 
other trips connected with family convenience, necessity 
or pleasure. For any of these purposes there was an 
understood arrangement of signal flags between the 
master of the islet and the residents upon the neighboring 
fastlands, a streamer from house or pole on the latter 
indicating that the good servitor was needed, while a 
flying flag from the island gave notice that its occupant 
was at home and ready for service. His ostensible 
occupation was tub and boat-building, but he was never 
too busy to serve a friend or neighbor to whose necessities 
or pleasure he seemed ever glad to subordinate anything 
with which he might be engrossed. 

' As may be supposed, such a man could not fail to be 
loved and respected by all who knew him. He had in- 
deed a golden heart and an instinctive affiliation with 
everything noble and true in human aspiration. Dike 
most strongly good characters he was made up of strongly 
balanced attributes. A fearless soldier of fortune, he 
united a passion for daring adventure with a love of peace 
and longings for home; his taste for solitude quickened his 
zest for human companionship, and self-communings and 
life-views so se'arching and serious as to sometimes deepen 
21 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


322 

into melancholy were relieved b}’ such love of humor and 
jolly buoyancy as seemed to know no bounds. A reader 
and thinker, the books he had brought to his rude home 
included Don Quixote and Pilgrim’s Progress, with works 
by Ben Jonson, Erasmus, Milton and some Greek and 
Latin authors; but those which were dingiest with thumb- 
ing were his favorite Shakspere and the Bible. From 
these he was full of constant quotations; with all he was 
familiar, and from their pages could make pertinent and 
accurate readings, but with humorous perversity and to 
avoid the assumption of superiority to his neighbors, he 
constantly yielded to the whimsical temptation to make ludi- 
crous misquotations, to Dutchify his best English and fall 
into unlettered talk and the clumsy sentences of the ig- 
norant. Without so intending it the habit seemed to link 
him to them in jollier kinship and even to attest the happy 
propriet3^ of that loving cognomen of “Uncle Gabe,’’ 
which was bestowed not less because of the indulgent 
kindliness of the man than because the name of Uncle 
Gabe seemed playfully deducible from that of the Gabriel 
Van Onkelbach who had so often carried the youngsters 
on his uncle-like back. 

But this digression is delaying our narrative. It was 
but a step to the head of the Black Cat, which inlet divided 
the fastland from the swamp at the lower side of the 
Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore railroad where 
the track now crosses the Brandywine. A tiny brook 
then made into the head of the inlet, which received its 
n‘ame from that of a vessel which in earlier years had win- 
tered there. While the family were hastening their pre- 
parations the yacht had remained in charge of the young 
boatswain who bore the plentiful name of “ Seb/’ Bass,” 
“Cab,” or “ Bot,” chosen according to the whim of his mas- 
ter, who designed either or all of them as an easy and 
familiar designation of Sebastian Cabot, the great naviga- 
tor, for whom he was named. He was a sober-faced 
Dutch lad of few words and vast breadth, whose growth up-» 
ward had ceased at ten, since which age it had continued 
laterally until he was nearly as wide as high, while his 
strength and activity seemed exactly proportioned to his 
silence. 

And now all preparations are completed — the house is in 
order, the children are reasonably presentable and Lars 
and the eldest girl have given their last look to the care of 
the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the ducks and geese, and 
particularly to the fawn presented to Ebba, which has be- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


323 


come a great pet; and as with its kindred of human kind 
its petting begins to spoil into mischief. Every creature 
and thing is to be left alone for a time, and so after making 
the little pretense of fastening the house, customary in the 
newest countries, the little party trudged along towards the 
Brandywine. As they approached the mooring place in 
the inlet some of the children could not restrain their im- 
patience, but running forward they raised a shout as they 
called aloud, — 

“ Oh, oh, ’tis the new boat — ’tis the pretty Sea-gull.” 

“Yaw, yaw, I feetsch der leetle nimble-ving,” said 
Uncle Gabe, “ undt be she not so trim und clean shust as 
a bird ?” and the triumphant skipper glanced with pardon- 
able pride at this latest product of his little boat-yard. 

“With e’en gentler grace than her feathered name- 
sake,’’ replied Ebba. 

“ Dot vas goot, hooraw ! Now I helbs in ye Madam 
und Mam’selle und den we shibs der cargo of toddlers — 
steady — so — goot, goot.” 

They pushed out and glided over the lower boundary of 
the inlet, which the risen waters had now submerged. 

“ Spry, dere, cockswain ! Show your veather eye, Seb : 
ye Bas und Cab — all hands up mit der sails und ve show 
flight of der real Sea-gull.” 

The sails fTlled with a freshening southern breeze and 
the little yacht bore straight away for the island. But 
they had hardly overcome half the short distance to it 
when a shout was heard from little Nils : 

“ Look, look ! oh, Ontle Dabe, what is it?’’ he cried. 

All eyes were turned as directed by the youthful finger 
and there, across the bay-waters, a large white object 
moved behind the fringed banks of the Delaware and soon 
a noble ship under full canvas emerged from the trees and 
stood up the broad river with the majestic grace of a 
swan. 

“As bright as a snow-vision;’’ exclaimed Ebba, 
“the white-wings seem to recall forgotten dreams;” 
and as the ship passed under a cloud tinged with the soft- 
est blush of rosy warmth, she thought it one of the fairest 
pictures she had ever beheld. 

“ I heardt der signald-gun at mid-day, but I tought der 
ship would lay at New Castle till next tide unt den I go in 
de morning over to see der new beoples. But I guess dey 
be all Quakers und dey sztop not long anywhere as dey 
hurry to dere Penn’s land above.’’ 


324 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


“ Well, I wonder when these Quaker heretics will stop 
coming,” said dame Signild: ” this must be the seventh 
or eighth ship load of ’em already come this year; and af- 
ter while I suppose their great Moses, the big Penn his- 
self, will be follerin’ ’em into the wilderness, if he never 
leads ’em out of it. I don’t know what’s to become of 
’em all, the way they be crowdin’ in: and no more what’s 
to become of our Augsburg faith among such hordes o’ un- 
heedin’ Philistines.” 

“ Oh, I belief dere pe room enough for all beoples und 
all faiths in dis broadt landt, eh ? But here ve be; — let go 
mainsail: trim boat und shtand by dere, Bot. Bravo, 
bravo !” and the face of the hospitable skipper broadened 
with fresh glee as his yacht glided gently to her island 
moorings. 

The sound of coopers’ tools was heard at intervals as the 
party landed and walked up to the house. Uncle Gabe 
bustled on a little in advance, and turning at the thresh- 
hold of his domicile, extended his one whole arm and the 
stump of the other in the fraternal breadth of his whole- 
hearted welcome. The children could not await cere- 
monies before starting upon a circuit of the isle, and soon 
they had peered into the shops, handled all the tools and 
fed upon all the insular novelties ot the place. Nor for 
all the visiting adults had the spot lost its interest, al- 
though new onl}^ to Ebba. But that young lady, for the 
present, could not keep her eyes from the ship; and soon 
the whole party were gazing at a sight which although of 
lessening strangeness from the increasing arrivals of the 
” Friends,” was yet too infrequent to have lost the fasci- 
nation of novelty, often reviving as it did the fondly ling- 
ering associations and gladdening thoughts of fatherland. 
The vessel was making little progress, for the tide had 
turned, and scarcely observable was her motion as the 
white sails gleamed against the green woods of the oppo- 
site shore. 

As they gazed at the dreamy picture, sudden shouts and 
trampings of the children drew their attention in another 
direction, for the youngsters were racing to be first to tell 
of what they saw. Northward a dark object seemed to be 
moving toward them from the hills of Kypaddle or Skyll- 
pot,now known as Shelpot. The distance was nearly a mile 
and it was at first puzzling to determine what it could be. 
Pointing directly toward them, it seemed too narrow for a 
boat and it had neither sails nor oars. As it drew nearer 


Ebb a Borjeson. 325 

the guesses of the watchers grew in numbers and confi- 
dence. 

“ ’Tis a canoe,” shouted young Lars; ” Hurrah, it’s a 
redskin paddling his canoe — that’s what it is.” 

‘‘ Right, mein poy !” gleefully cried Uncle Gabe, who 
had quizzically listened to the varying observations, ” Dot 
vas mine goot frien’, der young chief Okovela.” 

With the mention of the name Ebba felt her heart leap 
with a strange consciousness; and whether with pleasure 
or vexation or a surprised commingling of both, she 
feared her cheeks were tingling with what might seem a 
betraying flush. Vividly the memory of her wandering 
adventures up the Brandywine rushed upon her, and not 
less vividly, if mellowed with a pensive sense of gratitude, 
did she recall the young Indian’s kindness during all her 
roving thoughtlessness. She had not seen him since 
he had brought her the motherless fawn, and her heart 
would not have been calmer had she known of the stealth}^ 
glimpses her admirer had since caught of her, or of his 
increasing propensity, often indulged, to secrete himself 
near her person. She had been otherwise so engrossed 
upon her first meeting with the Indian that she did 
not recall his having mentioned any tribal rank held by 
his father or himself. In a quiet voice of careless 
indifference she ventured to ask, 

‘‘ Did our host say that the coming guest is a chief?” 

” Yaw; but I vas too fast. He shust is son of a 
schief — und dere’s not a more royal heart vith nobler 
vishes in any crown-brince of Europe. He vas brave as a 
lion und dtender as a lamb. Ongle Cabe likes all his 
guests but he velcomes not von so more as he velcomes 
dis goot-blooded red man of der voods.” 

‘‘What, then,” enquired Ebba, ‘‘is the name of the 
chief, his father ?” 

“ Hish name is Kanockere, who, mit Alom, Eliggene, 
Towis und oder schiefs, two year ago gif a deed to John 
Moll for all te beople’s lands on der islands und shores ov 
our Christina greek und White Clay und Red Clay greeks 
und efery where about, to be neighborly mit der planters 
und all beoples as behafe goot; und I shust zay of yedakes 
fader und son dey show demselves fit comrades of der vise 
Tamanent, who Lsh deir goot frien’, — but heigho dere!” — 
and the worthy host bustled forward with open arms to meet 
the young Indian now nearing the shore; ‘‘ velcome dere 
— hurrah ! velgoom — velgome to der home ov Gabriel Von 
Unkelbach.” 


326 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Steadying the canoe as it touched the sloping bank, 
Uncle Gabe reached forth his one whole arm and giving 
the Indian a prodigious grasp pulled him ashore with such 
upsetting heartiness as staggered the young chief’s gravest 
equipoise. Then with a look of proud kindliness the host 
turned and with a wave of his hand and toss of his hat by 
way of introduction, said: 

“ Kint guests, dish vas mine frien’ Okovela; make you- 
selves all at home und pe friens mit each odere; und — veil, 
bravo ! yonder comes Seb mit our neighbors Mathiason 
und Staelcop und Janson und Andries und dere families, 
und now ve come altogeder und make merry mit goot-vill 
all arount. Ship ahoy dere, Bas ! Helm aport, Cab ! Ah 
ha ! who says mine cockswain Bot no make brafe sailor, 
mepbe a’ready, eh?” 

And as the young Indian and prior guests were exchang- 
ing greetings Uncle Gabe strode off to greet these last 
arrivals. As the happy host was leading them forward he 
was met by little Nils with the childish querj^^: 

“ Ontel Dabe, when will you be our efelant?” 

” Your elephandt? yaw, mein schildt, after I tends first 
to dese big beoples den I pe der little one’s elephandt und 
your vild boar; und you’ll pe mine leetle horses; und den 
of yees goot I command all sides und fight mit und against 
Svedes, Dutch unt English mit you all.” 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

After another exchange of general courtesies and some 
merry talk as the result of the host’s efforts for neighborly 
good-will, the guests stood about in groups or wandered off 
in couples as inclination or chance prompted. Ebba was 
not long in noticing that her Indian friend, whether from 
necessity or choice, stole aside alone. She found occasion 
to approach him. With half-averted face his quick eye 
caught her purpose, and as if in tremulous apprehension, 
straightened his tall form and walked slowly away with an 
odd mixture of happy trepidation and proud reserve. 

” Nay, thou shalt not avoid me,” Ebba exclaimed as 
she received the timid response to her greeting; ” thou hast 
queried no word of the fawn. He grows daily more tame 
and licks my hand trustingly; and he seems to know 
my voice.” 


Ebb a Boi'jeson. 


327 


“ Pawn knows the voice of pity; he trusts the hand that 
would have spared his mother’s life.” 

‘‘ E’en so, perchance; yet more are the strong and brave 
e’er merciful to the weak. ’Twas a thoughtless, not a 
wanton act that brought sorrow so soon to thee.” 

“ Itah ! ’twas sorrow of Pale-face with raven hair that 
touched red man’s heart; ’twas like the voice of the Great 
Spirit e’en as great canoe signals his white-winged peace,” 
and with the words the young Indian waved his hand to- 
ward the slow-moving ship. 

” Beautiful and apt similitude,” murmured Ebba, ” and 
perchance e’en more prophetic, seeing the ship carries 
peaceful Quakers; but I — ” 

” Make vay dere !” were the interrupting words shouted 
in a loud, merry voice from behind, “ make a’ vay for der 
vild-boar und his hunders.” 

And along came Uncle Gabe with dishevelled hair and 
uncouth garments, in a grotesque movement of alternate 
running and creeping in representation of a fleeing boar, 
w'hile the shouting children trooped after in wild delight 
with pretended guns, spears and all manner of improvised 
weapons. The obliging host had already played “efelant” 
for the children, for which purpose he fixed himself on 
bended knees and moved off with a young mountain of 
merry-makers on his elephantine back; but while this fun 
was going on the island family of the host’s Dutch house- 
keepers had been busy in making ready a huge repast for 
the visitors; and so, after the wild boar had suffered him- 
self to be captured and killed, the deceased animal was 
nevertheless suddenly resurrected by a signal from the 
house so as to rise up and say that the remaining games 
would be deferred till after the feast. That vital portion 
of the entertainment being announced as ready, the guests 
gathered about a long rude table spread under the branches 
of a weeping- willow and a buttonwood, which trees spread 
their coupled shade over house and yard. And it would 
be difficult to name any article of usual food or toothsome 
luxury procurable at that time and place which that 
bountiful spread did not embrace. Beside the juiciest 
shad possible at the then waning run of that best of fish, 
there were choice cuts of salted bear’s meat, smoked rac- 
coon, fresh spring lamb, savory teal ducks, the best dried 
venison, with pickled articles and the various vegetables 
which for crisp excellence the isle had long been famous. 
In deference to the preponderating Swedish guests the 
beautiful custom of silent standing grace as followed in 


328 Ebb a Borjeson. 

fatherland, was now observed before sitting down to the 
feast. 

Some of the company had continued their gaze at the 
ship at intervals. With the failing wind its speed was 
steadily decreasing against the increasing tide, and it had 
barely made five miles from New Castle, when its motion 
seemed to cease altogether. It was now directly opposite 
the isle, less than a mile away toward the nearest Jersey 
shore, and the scene grew more lovely as the sinking sun 
warmed its peaceful features. The eating had hardly 
begun in vigorous earnest before some one observed that 
a yawl seemed to be leaving the side of the becalmed ves- 
sel. All eyes turned at once to the moving object. As it 
came nearer its oars flashed in the sun ; and soon with the 
shortening distance it was seen to be coming directly to- 
ward them over the river bank and across the marshy bay. 
As it neared the island a flash of questioning interest 
lighted up Ebba’s face, and when, a moment later, a man 
stepped from the boat to the shore, the young lady sud- 
denly rose and exclaiming, “ ’tis Arvid,’’ excused herself 
and hastened to meet the new-comer. 

After hasty greetings and questionings Ebba returned 
with her brother and introduced him to the guests. 

“ Tou perverse fellow!” exclaimed the host, ‘ goome 
sit ye here unt git punished niit some honest scheer. Now 
dell us ebery tings so more as you know, eh ?” 

Roving and restless as Arvid was known to be, few of 
his acquaintances knew or expected to learn anything of 
his movements. He was here to-day and gone to-morrow 
without exciting much enquiry. He had disappeared a 
day or two after their first arrival, and Ebba, knowing his 
active interest in matters of immigration and especially in 
the great movement of the Quakers, in which she shared, 
she felt no uneasiness at his absence. He returned now 
brimming with news, and his face glowed with enthusiastic 
excitement over the projects and prospects he had heard 
so much of among ” Friends.” One of the earliest ships 
of the season had brought William Penn’s commission- 
ers for settling the colony, and the}^ were now busy with 
Deputy Markham in searching out the best place for the 
proposed town. Yon ship he had just left was the New 
Hope, crowded with new Quaker settlers and bringing 
many comforts and assurances to prior friends ; and the 
next ship to come, he continued, “will be the Amity, 
Capt. Dimond, which will soon arrive bringing young 
Claypole and Penn’s surveyor, Thomas Holme, who with 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


329 


the commissioners will lay out the streets and lots of 
Penn’s great town, as soon as its site is fixed upon ; and I 
know the commissioners have been for weeks spying all 
the lands and sounding the river and creeks all about Up- 
land, hoping to find the sort of place wanted; but though 
the banks there be as high and healthy as the Proprietary 
requires, they find scarce land enough unbroken by hills 
and swamps for a big town of ten thousand acres, and the 
commissioners think they must go further up the river to 
find both high and level land with bold banks and deep 
water where ships may load and unload at the shore with- 
out lightering ; and they are looking at a place nigh oppo- 
site Ran cocas and another lower down where the proposed 
town may be laid out to front on the Delaware and run 
away back to the Schu3dkill : and ’tis said Penn will send 
by his surveyor. General Holme, on the Amity, a great 
letter of introduction to be read to the red men, greeting 
them as brethren, among whom Friends hope to dwell in 
love and peace — ” 

“ As I belief dey vill,” interrupted Uncle Gabe, yield- 
ing at this point to the illy-restrained impulse of his sym- 
pathetic interest in the subject ; “ I know not much apout 
der Quager creed und I don’t vill care for dot what makes 
men act der brute more as der broder, und so I looks to 
vot men do more as vot dey provess, und ven I see der 
Quagers do goot und be shust to red man und vhite der 
same alike, den I tink dey vas not so much bad a’readty : 
for dot vas shust vat ter Saviour deaches. Und I see al- 
ready couble goot tings from dis Veelhelm Benn — dis 
great act ov simple yustice to der red man, und vhat pe- 
fore already he did more as two year ago to get der Duke 
of York to dake off again dot ten per cent, duty on all 
impordations at der Whorekills on all doze tings vhich 
our boorest beoples so much vant as dey vill pe alvay 
somdiines tempted to begome smugglers und freebooters 
or vorse : und I say that vas shust so goot dot of ’twere 
no more as give us peace unt take avay anxiety bout der 
fader ov dese chil — ” the speaker suddenly checked him- 
self as he met simultaneously a warning sign from the 
anxious face of dame Signild and a lip-signal tipped him 
by Arvid. 

“Unt I tinks,” returned the speaker, hastening to 
change his talk, “ ve gets better times mit dese so many 
Quagers, for ve get alarms no more from der savages, to 
fight mit demselves or butcher der vhites : und I saw 
a’ ready better tings vhen I vent last fall to der second 


330 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


term of der new court at Upland t, vhere vas der new Gov- 
ernor Markham ; und if all Quagers vas like Robert Wade 
und Thomas Fairman I — ” 

“ Like them or not,” interposed Arvid, ” I’ll vouch for 
Caleb Pusey as being as good and wise as either. ’ ’ 

” Dot vas der miller man, yaw, metinks?” 

” Yes ; and he has found a place for his mill and would 
like you and me to go up and judge if it be a good site 
and convenient for river as well as back settlers. 

”0, I go mit pleasure ; I be glad ov any schance ov a 
new mill mitin dwenty mile : for such times as ve all te 
vhile somedimes haf in dese settlements for grists ! Vhy, 
first dere vas der vidow Parent’s unfinished horse-mill in 
New Amstel twenty-four year ago, unt der Dutch tide-mill 
at None-such, unt der mill on Millcreek, all leetle goot ; 
und den ve haf to pound our grain or grind it mit hand- 
mills or I sails for our Christeen settlers all der vay to old 
Printz Svede mill beyont Tinnicum. Den ve get a goot 
mill here at Turtle Falls on Skyllpot, but ’tis old und oud ov 
ordter, und I goes mit boat for mine neighbors all te way 
to Olive’s mill at Rancocas creek now for two year. To 
be sure dey gif De La Grange dot bit ov vacant marsh 
above New Castle for a vint-mill last fall, but it hardly 
needs a Dutchman to tell dot a vint-mill vas little goot in a 
calm ; und so anoder vater-mill vas great ting for all der 
river. Yaw, I’ll be glad to go mit you ; unt so ve get bet- 
ter tings all rount ; unt so, mine friens, as you tried 
mine home brewed unt give mine healf I pledge ye in old 
Jacquet’s best medlar prandy vat vas most so goot as der 
Rhine vine — here’s your go’t health !” 

The guests tossed off the drink with merry gusto, and 
then rising, drank again to their host; after which newly- 
filled pipes of choicest home-grown tobacco were distrib- 
uted among the men and some of the elder women, and 
soon a dense cloud of smoke rose into the branches above 
their heads. Then singing was proposed, and the host, 
tuning his voice to his ancient lute, sang songs of the 
Dutch and Swedish fatherland to which the guests added 
a roaring chorus. When they left the table the becalmed 
ship had dropped anchor and men were dimly seen on the 
yards furling her shrouds. And now, how like a benedic- 
tion, Ebba thought, did the gold in powdery suffusion lay 
upon the dreamy picture as the sun sank behind the 
wooded hills. 

“Yaw,” said Uncle Gabe, as if divining her thought, 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


33 ^ 


“such an efening, metinks, flatters mit her sovereign eye 
shust so much as der morning, as Schaksbeare gif it.” 

“At thine old tricks,” cried Arvid, catching the last 
words, “steady now, old boy, and give my sister the 
whole quotation in thy nicest English.” 

“So?” and the excited host, with an upward glance and 
glowing expression, repeated with faultless effect Shak- 
spere’s exquisite lines: 

“ Full many a glorious moruing have I seen 
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye. 

Kissing with golden face the meadows green. 

Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy,” 

“ Und now ve go!” he suddenly exclaimed, and excus- 
ing himself sprang away to join the waiting children whom 
he speedily arranged in couples and drove round the islet 
as prancing steeds, and afterward marshaled as opposing 
Dutch and Swedes, whom he led in deadly conflicts in 
which both sides proved victors. 

And so in divers ways the visitors were entertained, 
while the waning twilight yielded to the bulging redness 
of the rising moon, which so brightened as it continued 
up the sky that later, when the guests were ready to 
depart, their host boated them to their several homes 
through dreamy floods of misty silver. Arvid was about 
to leave with the last departing boatload, when the host, 
with his finger upon his lips, softly nudged his guest. 

“ Shtay — hush ! a vord mit you bout der absent fader. 
Vill ye lodge mit me to-night?” 

“Willingly; ’twill not be the first night thy roving 
friend hath shared thy island-cheer.” 

“ Und I hobe not der last by tousend times: bedt unt 
boardt ov Gabriel Van Onkelbach at der service ov Arvid 
Borjeson in all his flittings now und efer.” 

And as the boy boatswain rowed away the departing 
guests, the two friends returned slowly to the house. 


332 


Ebba Borjeson. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

Of the consultation between the two friends on Cooper’s 
Isle, little is to 'be said because it had little result; and 
this because the host failed to obtain from his guest the 
information he desired or the clew which he had hoped 
might lead to it. 

‘ ‘ The Father ’ ’ was known as such to others than the 
children with whom Ebba had cast her lot. It was the 
familiar, appellation by which the easy-going man was 
generally called in the little settlement. As before stated 
he had been variously soldier, farmer, fisherman, &c. at 
different times in the past, but for several years, while his 
occupation had avowedly been that of a sailor, there had 
been less and less known of his actual doings. The ves- 
sel on which he was employed never sailed to or from a 
known home port; her name or character was not known, 
and the nature or length of her voyages seemed to be 
matters of much irregularity and growing uncertainty. 
The home-coming of the father had long been an event 
eagerly looked forward to not alone by his children but by 
folks little and big throughout the neighborhood: for be- 
sides the famous stories he told he brought fine presents, 
and many were the rare and curious little articles treasured 
by house-keeping neighbors as mementoes at once of his 
home-visits and kindly remembrance of them. Thus it 
was that for a long time there seemed more gladness 
at his return than curiosity at his absence. But with the 
increasing rarity both of the visits and the gifts there 
came to be a certain mystery attaching to the random 
ways of the father. Gradually the joy at his return 
yielded to a feeling of mingled longing and nameless 
dread. There began to be whispers of dire smugglings 
and stealthy wickedness connected with his movements: 
dark hints and ominous head-shakings served to confirm 
both the sin and weird perils of a forbidden commerce; 
and old dame Thekla went so far as to connect the matter 
in some unaccountable way with the doings of the mischief- 
making Troll of the fatherland and the direful concomit- 
ants of the old pagan Mythology. This old dame, with 
the aid of a crutch, hobbled about upon legs of quite un- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


333 


equal length ; her eyes crossed vision as if in fierce conten- 
tion, and her shaggy crown of white hair instead of mak- 
ing an even lengthwise division on her head, began part- 
ing directly over one squint eye and ended just behind the 
opposite ear, so that, altogether, the old woman presented 
such an odd make-up as puzzled the observer to decide 
whether her various obliquities were most in harmony or 
at cross purposes with each other. Whether because of 
such concurring or contending peculiarities, or from actual 
sight, the old dame was heard to aver with husky solemity 
of voice that in the middle of a certain dark night she had 
seen a ghostly vessel flitting about the marshy bay with 
the speed of a frantic deer, gliding at will over deeps and 
shallows while the people were in their beds. . This had 
occurred a few years before and the nine-days’ wonder had 
nearly passed from the memory of all except the aged wit- 
ness of it. A firm adherent of the old pagan superstitions, 
dame Thekla, if not herself a witch, seemed to typify the 
mysteries of modern witchcraft, and she shared far beyond 
her quiet neighbors in that doleful delusion which had 
convulsed the New England colonies. Little heed, how- 
ever, was given to her mysterious whisperings until some 
months after the ghostly visit of the night vessel, when 
by some chance a collection of strange foreign articles of 
curious workmanship was discovered in the little haunted 
cave in the rocky base of the ramparts of Fort Christina. 
This startling event had at once revived the waning faith 
in sorcery and connected its conjurations with the flitting 
night craft and the mysterious movements of the father. 
Although so long a time had since elapsed, it still formed 
the occasional subject of such neighborhood talk as was to 
be hushed or carefully avoided in the presence of any 
members of the household. 

It was partly with the hope of learning something 
definite respecting the absent father, and partly the desire 
to talk over matters touching the family welfare that 
Uncle Gabe had sought a consultation with Arvid Bor- 
jeson. He knew of the latter’s active interest in all the 
movements of the multiplying incomers, as well as his 
intelligent aptitude in all adventurous matters of new or 
strange concern; and he had hoped that something might 
be gathered from the shipping news his quick ear had 
caught touching coasters and other craft. Their talk 
lasted until far into the night, but as already intimated it 
elicited little information. Beyond what might be 
inferred from the rumored increase of contraband traffic 


334 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


and vague stories of buccaneers from the islands, Arvid 
had nothing to communicate, and “unless the reported 
capture of a couple of Spanish free hooters,” he quietly 
added, “ can have any bearing on our subject, I can throw 
no light upon it or hint aught touching it.” 

Uncle Gabe started up at the words. He had been 
growing rather listless with the declining prospect of 
gaining the clew he sought ; now his face assumed a look 
of querying anxiety as he roused himself. 

“O, I vonder could it be — nay, nay, metinks der fader 
vould not — dere gome tdroubles mitoudt — ” and in a 
musing tone as if speaking more to himself than to his 
companion, he presently continued: 

“ Fair exchange pe yust so different from robbery as 
day from night; but of der law shtop honest trade it 
somedimes mebbe drives men to dishonest vays. Metinks 
it better to obey all der laws: for of efer^^ man disobej^ vat 
he tinks may pe bad law he gets bretty soon so much a 
law-breaking habit as blinds him to goot and badt shust 
der same, unt ve get no law at all. So much I tinks bout 
dot: but all der same metinks dere vas greater sins as 
dtricking dis Duke of York und his nation out ov dose 
customs which dey strip from dealers shust to gorge mit 
demselves: unt dey vould compel all beoples to buy efer}^- 
tings from der English, but keep em too poor to buy mit 
at all: unt so all der vhile dey pet der colonies as 
dere schildren dey fleece dem more as victims: unt — ” 

“Just so. Uncle Gabe; but the application. Do you then 
really su.spect that ‘ the father ’ was — ” 

“ O, I say not dot: I knows not bad tings ov him und I 
dtries to.tink for der best ; und den I don’t vill know what 
I tinks or vhat I knows, unt metinks I just sa}" unt know 
unt tink notings at all.” 

“ Did you not tell me that you once built a small vessel 
for ‘ the father ? ’ ” 

‘ ‘ Yaw druly ! und no gay lass in betticoatsefer svung mit 
more winsome grace as she in der vater. Dot vas elefen 
year agone; ‘ der fader ’ order der boat for Manhattan mer- 
chant und I make only der hull und it vas towed to der 
owner mitoudt rigging; und I tells ye it vas to common 
crqft as der sky-lark to voddling duck — ^just der snuggest, 
nimblest, sauciest skimmer as nefer vas ! As I shust said 
she vas rigged elsewhere; und Onkel Cabe veep mit his 
eyes ven she vent, shust as a parent for lost schild ; but 
dot parent knows not his schild nor Dutch miser efer scent 
a stiver if I see not dot same clipper scudding up der 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


335 


river here rigged so rakish as any wanton. Der New 
Castle folk vere den auderized to forbid all vessels from 
going furder up der Delaware so as ” 

“ How and for what purpose?” queried Arvid; “Who 
could grant them such arbitrary power ?” 

” O, dey vere alvays whining bout der hard times which 
gome much from dere tipsy idlenesss; unt so on recommen- 
dation ov Captain Carr for der town the Governor and 
Council ordered all vessels to be shtopped und forced to 
trade at New Castle to safe der place from ruin. Und so 
dey dtried to shtop der leetle fleet-footer as could show her 
heels to anything afloat. Dey shouted mit loud voice und 
dey fired a pig gun; but it do shust so much goot to shout at 
der moon, und a creeping turtle might so veil shute at der 
darting swallow. Past ’em she sailed.” 

‘ ‘ Could this little craft then have been the ghostly visi- 
tor which croning dame Thekla insists that she saw flit- 
ting about this bay at midnight ? And — stay ! light breaks 
perchance upon me. Could ‘ the father ’ — ’ ’ and the speaker 
started to his feet with the force of a new idea, ” yes, I 
see, I see-the midnight sail, mayhap ‘ the father ’ her sailor, 
and the — the hidden treasure in the cave; and that con- 
cealed treasure possibly a lot of contraband goods!” 

“Hush I ve know no things about dot; und ve shust 
speak no more as ve know; but of mine beauty glide not 
as free as a phantom-ship, noting can dot efer kissed der 
vater; und so of der qld dame saw any ting dot night und 
did’nt conjure someting from noting mit her crooked sight 
und crookeder notions, den mepbe ’twas mine flying pet in 
her night robes vot she saw. But ve noting know ’bout 
night sails or buried treasures, und ve noting know vot ‘ de 
fader ’ do. So long as dere vas customs to pay, veil, me- 
tinks somedimes mepbe he might skip round der cruiser 
und get der free goots in: but for nigh two year now dere 
don’t vas any duty to pay at the Whorek'ills, und since 
Vilhelm Penn open de whole river free to all traders, I 
don’t can tell what ‘ der fader ’ or his merchant leader may 
be doing mit der fleet clipper. Mepbe dey run a swift 
coasting trade mit der neighbor islands, straight und open 
to all, und meybe dey sometimes sport mit der revenue 
cruiser at New York vhere customs must still be paid. I 
hope ’tis noting vorse, — O, metinksdey could notvickedly 
become pira — Shtay ! did ye hear de names ov dose Span- 
ish captures, dere captains or crews, metinks, no?” 

” No names of vessels or men; but the property was, of 


336 Ebb a Borjeson. 

course, confiscated, and I suppose the captains and crews 
imprisoned.” 

“So? Und of ‘ der fader’ den return vhen his promised 
time come now soon at hand, it vill bretty sure show dot 
he don’t vas concerned in dis bat pusiness. Und so far so 
goot: und ve den hope for der best.” 

At all events, as there was no definite course to pursue 
with so little clue, if at all, they could but await the result 
of their hopes and fears touching the return of the father. 
Pending this the two friends parted for the night. When 
they rose in the morning the ship was nowhere to be seen. 
There was still only a slight wind from the south: but 
with this she had caught the early morning tide and 
passed on up the river. 

Following this friendly conference Uncle Gabe earnestly 
resumed his volunteer efforts to promote peace and good 
feeling among some of his bickering neighbors. One of 
these, in purchasing a sack of geese feathers, had found a 
large stone concealed in their midst, by which he was 
cheated to the extent of its alien weight, and resorted to 
the law for redress. In another case, the wife of a promi- 
nent settler who had missed a quoif was reported as declar- 
ing that she saw at her own daughter’s wedding the stolen 
article upon the head of a neighbor’s daughter. This 
being repeated with the usual gossipy exaggerations, led 
to a trial for defamation of character with the usual har- 
vest of neighborly bitterness. 

The islander had so far succeeded in his peaceful efforts 
as to bring together most of the wrangling neighbors and 
their respective partisans at his late party. But his fur- 
ther labors had not been successful, and one day as Ebba 
and the children saw him pass the Black Cat, returning 
from a last fruitless attempt to adjust his neighbor’s differ- 
ences, his broad kindly face expressed such deep dejec- 
tion as must have severely tested his sunny philosophy. 
Ordering Sebastian Cabot to rest upon his oars a moment 
as the boat approached the shore, 

‘‘Yaw den,” he said in reply to a sympathetic inquiry 
from Ebba, ‘‘mit foul veader und head vinds all roundt I 
don’t vill know shust vhich vay to put der helm, but I 
guess der sunshine bretty soon mebpe peep und den ve haf 
brighter days — shame Gabriel! you vhine? Vhy, mit de 
fader’s return, de schildren’s goot health and der soon 
coming ov Rupe Fairfield again ve get goot tings und 
prospects alreaty, hurrah: heave ahead. Bast!” and with 


Ebba Borjeso7i. 


337 


something of his wonted jollity Uncle Gabe waved a 
cheery adieu as his boat passed on down the creek. 

How inseparable, thought Ebba, is trial of some kind 
from every condition of life. For here was this worthy man 
as busy in averting trouble from others as were they in 
making trouble for themselves; and all the more did she 
admire that elastic unselfishness which seemed to keep 
always a true heart adjustable to any emergency. 

And so with such varying incidents the quiet days in the 
little colony wore on. “The father” had come and gone and 
so quieted all present anxieties on his account; Uncle Gabe 
had kindly continued his weekly voyages in taking them 
to and from church, and Nicodemus Knight had honored 
Ebba with semi-weekly visits and entertained her with 
the picturesque pomposity and faded stateliness of his 
courtship. And all the while the verdurous season was 
ripening to its summer prime. In this, as in so many 
things, Ebba found continued matter of novel and endur- 
ing interest. Instead of the feverish rush of a belated sea- 
son as in Sweden, here was an earlier luxuriance in state- 
lier measure marching to a far earlier maturity. It seemed 
a grateful oddity to enjoy ripe strawberries at the end of 
May in America instead of the middle of August as in 
Sweden, and hardly a less glad surprise to find here 
luscious cherries at the beginning rather than at the end of 
summer. It was now past the middle of June and every 
day exhibited the comparatively tropical climate of the 
new home. The air was laden with the scent of white 
clover, early apples with kindred fruits were hastening to 
maturity, and hay harvest was already begun. 

And .now another Sunday has come; it is the fourth Sun- 
day after Trinity. No flag streams above Cooper Island, 
for its kind-hearted master ha^s gone to the sick-bed of a 
friendless settler up the Christina, and they are to cross 
the creek by the newly established ferry and walk to 
church. It is but a step up stream to this ferry and it 
will transfer them to the point of fastland on the opposite 
shore. As they land there they see the fine medlar trees 
from whose berries was produced that famous brandy or 
wine with which Uncle Gabe had recently treated his 
guests. Taking a footpath over the fastlands they bear 
south and east, round the marshy bay, and soon are well 
on their circling journey of two miles to Crane-hook 
Church. As they wend their pleasant way over the fields 
how indescribably fragrant is the newly mown hay; how 
majestically sways the lofty wheat in its crown of fast 

22 


338 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


deepening gold ! Already on the earliest fields the sickle 
has begun its work and on the morrow the golden harvest 
will be resumed in fuller measure. 

But what is that the Swedish girl sees as she trudges on 
with the children between fields of barlev and oats ? It 
grows in long straight cultivated rows: she pauses for a 
closer look at that wonderful maize of which she has 
heard so much. Its bright glossy leaves are grown 
enough to sway gracefully in the hardly perceptible wind, 
and their faint rustle seems a whispering lullaby tributary 
to the concerted hush of the sweet Sabbath morning. 

At length they reach the weather-browned church. 
They find the assembling people engaged in the usual 
gossip and made up of the usual prophets of good and 
evil. The cheery -voiced optimists made old Job Blinc- 
kenheim all the more certain that these blackening clouds 
of Quakers were a Divine judgment visited upon the people 
for their sins: for the deer would be frightened further 
inland, the lessening beavers and martens wholly killed 
off and all honest trade completely ruined. This brought 
talk of church matters in connection with the incoming 
heretics, alternated with references to the prospective 
new grain traffic with the West India islands. The latter 
had such growing interest as hardly yielded to the 
ever recurring topic of dyking the marshes or repelling 
the wolves,- while new ventures in shipping walnut timber 
and nutwood, with the prospects of gain and the progress 
of grace had their share of the general consideration. 

So went on the intermingled chat about things temporal 
and spiritual, until the outside talkers became inside 
listeners to the solemn reckoning read by the pastor ‘ ‘ that 
the sufferings of this present time are not worthy' to be 
compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” 

And so swelled forth the oeautiful services by the bright 
hushed river in that ripening month of June. It was one 
of those occasions of reverential joy in which the lulled 
soul most shrinks from petty distraction. Ebba thought 
she had rarely felt the might of worship in more gladden- 
ing fullness, or known more of that ‘ ‘ peace of God which 
passeth all understanding.” It was not until the con- 
gregation were leaving the church that she chanced to 
catch the eye of Nicodemus Knight fixed in stony glare 
upon her. Seeking to escape his obtrusive attentions she 
pushed through the crowded doorway and upon turning 
hurriedly aside came abruptly upon two women in busy 
talk, some of which she could not avoid hearing: 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


339 


“ Oh, ’tis that Borjeson girl,” said the older of the two, 
an angular spinster of gossipy fame; ” ’tis that grandniece 
of dame Signild lately come from Sweden to show us our 
benighted ways and teach us better; and of all the proud 
and hateful — ” 

‘‘Proud? Why she’s mostly thought to be quiet 
enough.” 

‘‘ Them as keeps quiet tongues in their heads thinks all 
the worse thoughts about us as don’t carry high notions or 
foller sly ways. I knows these shrinkin’ creeters as says 
little and is too lofty to mix with folks: I’ve kept my eye 
on this one in perticeler, and I jest believe she’s tryin’ to 
trap Nic Knight for a rich husband; yes, and I expect 
she’ll e’en be greedy enough to try and ketch Rupe 
Fairfield when he comes, so as to have two strings to her 
bow. But — ” 

‘‘ Here avay now, all a’readty !” interposed a hearty 
voice, and as Ebba turned she saw Uncle Gabe, just re- 
turning from the bed-ridden sufferer, vigorously reaffirm- 
ing with single arm and single purpose his formerly ex- 
pressed wish to carry them home in his boat. Upon this 
little voyage it may be guessed that the young lady’s Sab- 
bath reflections were not wholly undisturbed. Strive as 
she might against the haunting sense of human pettiness, 
not all the glad harmony of nature, the sweetly peaceful 
day, the river’s sunny glow or the charm of the welcome- 
ing hills could wholly shut out the dissonant echo: ‘‘ tryin’ 
to trap Nic. Knight — greedy enough to ketch Rupe Fair- 
field.” 


CHAPTER XLVHI. 

“ Aunt Signild, who then is this Herr Fairfield of whom. 
I hear so much ?” 

The question was addressed by Ebba to the old dame, 
who was up to her elbows in her Monday’s washing. In- 
tent upon that absorbing occupation she failed to hear the 
inquiry or to heed its purport. For her only reply was a 
greater compression of lip and a renewed plunge into the 
labor before her. A repetition of the query elicited only 
a comical frown and shake of the head, and Ebba was 
about to turn away and await a more fitting time or favor- 


340 


Ebba Borjeso?t. 


ing mood with her aunt, when she caught the half-mut- 
tered words, “ come at last — been long expectin’ it — way 
with all of ’em.” 

” What says my aunt — I can’t <:omprehend her ?” 

“Ye’d like to know who he is?” The query 
came half-smothered from an averted mouth; Ebba 
signified her wish again for the information. 

” He’s a man !” was the more audible response. 

“Indeed!” quietly observed Ebba, not apparently af- 
fected by the startling announcement. 

“ A young man,” resumed the aunt and abruptly 
stopped. 

“Yes; well ? 

“ A handsome man,” she added with another pause. 

“ I hear and heed.” 

“ A dangerous, damaging man !” 

Ebba declined further urging, and for a time the silence 
was broken only by the louder scrubbing which her aunt 
prosecuted spasmodically. 

“Nay, dear heart!” exclaimed the old dame as she 
presently turned from her work and placed her dripping 
hands upon her hips; “I’ll not longer vex ye with doled 
morsels; I’ll feed ye full of what all the girls are hungry 
to know, about this young fellow as both charms and 
frightens ’em.” 

“ Is he then so formidable ?’ ’ 

“ Formidable, quotha ! I’ faith is he — e’isn turns all the 
girls’ heads and flutters their little hearts. Why, bless ye, 
I jest believe if some wild beast or evil enchanter should 
break into our settlement, its female folk would not be 
more riled ’twixt hope and fear than when that man comes 
among us.” 

Failing to elicit the prompt curiosity expected from 
Ebba, the old dame after a pause voluntarily resumed: 

“ Why, dear heart alive ! He’s the talk of the colony, 
and his coming is counted on like the return o’ the sea- 
sons. What e’er the other differences be among women 
folks with their fuss or fineries — howe’er else their hearts 
or hopes may go asunder, they’re sure to be all alike 
when it comes to Rupert Fairfield. Oh, I was sure I’d 
hear from ye about this man. Ye'd hardly be a fit girl 
and dweller in these parts if I had’nt. But I allow your 
query was tardy. I ’low ’twas so long a-comin’ that I 
did’nt wonder they called ye a strange girl, and truth to 
say, I began to think my niece the oddest of all odd 
creeters — a woman without a woman’s curiosity. 


Ebb a Boi'jesofi. 


341 


Ebba’s only reply was a self-respecting silence, accom- 
panied by one of her oddly unreadable looks, in which the 
least traceable expression was curiosity. The two women 
furtively scanned each other’s faces in silence. 

“ Well !” presently burst forth dame Signild. 

“ Well?” quietly responded the other. 

” Body o’ me ! but ye are a queer one. Don’t ye care 
whether I say on or no ?” 

Ebba’s face retained its Sphinx-like imperturbability. 

” Well. I vow ! It’s plain enough I’m more anxious to 
tell than ye are to hear. And as ye won’t ask, j’e must 
all the same know that this Rupert Fairfield is a dashin’ 
young gallant from Virginia, where his folks have that 
queer kind o’ pride as makes ’em hold their heads high, 
accordin’ as their origin was low. From what I can hear 
his family is among the first o’ them high steppin’ pre- 
tenders as are proud o’ their direct descent from the vaga- 
bonds and criminals who were transported as pests from 
England to this New World. But for the matter o’ that, 
whether the}^ were true or sham gentility, Rupert is but 
half-strain, for his mother was a pure Swede. His father 
was a tall, dark-skinned man of show}’ looks, who hap- 
pened to stop over here once when on his way from Virginia 
to visit some family acquaintances among the big old 
Dutch patroons up in New Amsterdam. Happening to 
meet here our Bertha Derrickson, who was the prettiest 
blonde and tenderest maid in the colony, he fell madly in 
love with her, and nothing would do but he must marr}^ her 
out of hand. Ah, me ! the man was so hurried on by his 
blindin’ passion that he seemed to forget all about his im- 
portant journey to New Amsterdam, and he would have 
made the girl his wife without more ado, if he hadn’t right 
here come plump agin’ the same obstacle which Gov- 
ernor Beekman met when he wished his new-born babies 
christened — the want of an ordained pastor. For ye must 
know that this was long afore the Rev. Fabricius had come 
to the river and when pastor Lock was the only one left of 
the three Swedish clergymen who had first come among 
us ; and as for findin’ the Rev. Lock when he was wanted 
in haste, why it was like huntin’ teal duck with a rattlin’ 
tin kettle or findin’ a needle in a hay stack ; for what with 
the pastor’s court squabbles and curious ways he was here 
and there and everywhere, but where he was most wanted ; 
givin’ himself up to sich habits as led to his marryin’ of 
himself and gettin’ that shockin’ bloody face from Peter 
Mayer’s mad assault of him. 


342 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Well, when the pastor could’nt be found in a jiffy, • 
how that self-willed Virginian did storm I Why, with the 
temper of a spoiled child, his pampered blood jest fumed 
and frothed as if he’d tear to tatters every body or 
thing that seemed to block his way. He had accompanied 
the embassy headed by Col. Nathaniel Utie that was sent 
by Lord Baltimore and reached New Amstel here in the 
early fall of 1659, and I believe he was charged with a 
message to Gov. Stuyvesant or some sich matter that 
could’nt well be put off; and so with all his lordly frettin’ 
the passionate lover was forced to go unmarried upon his 
journey. During his absence, however, all things was 
made ready for the weddin’, which was to take place 
upon his speedy return. And one o’ the first things, ye 
may be sure, was to hunt up pastor Lock and keep him 
close and ready when wanted. And dear heart ! what a 
time that was to be sure. How it all comes crowdin’ back 
to me ? The event was so great, the time so short and 
dressin’ things and fixins’ so scant in our poor settlement 
that what could’nt be got at the New Amstel storehouse we 
helped out by scrapin’ together the best we had in our dif- 
ferent families; and all the girls and fussy old dames in 
the colony went to work sewing and fittin' out the bride. 
And sure it needs no woman’s guessin’ to tell how our 
little neighborhood was rocked and tossed as in a tempest 
by the big event. It threw its cheerin’ shadow over all 
our plans and hopes; nothin’ else was talked about and 
little was thought of or done that had’nt something or 
other to do with the great cornin’ marriage. Ah, child, I 
could not tell ye if I would how goodly the time seemed 
to us then, because ye could’nt comprehend the many, 
many years of prior bad times that we hoped were then 
come to an end. Matters were in none too good a shape 
under our early Swedish rule, goodness knows, but when 
the pig-headed Hollanders come in with that swaggerin’ 
Stuyvesant, and robbed us of our rightful po.s — ’’ 

The old dame checked herself; she had wiped her drip- 
ping arms and taken a seat during her talk; and whether 
with the conscious purpose of extorting explicit questions 
from her listener, or from the unconscious propensity of 
age to dwell upon the past, she was prone to wander from 
her subject. Whatever the cause, she had run on without 
interruption from Ebba; and now, as if suddenly recalled 
to herself, she bent with renewed vigor over her wash-tub 
while her work and her awakened memories kept energet- 
ic company. Presently, without looking up, she said: 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


343 


“And what of the marriage, queried ye? Well, as I 
was a-sayin’, we made all haste to be ready agin the 
groom’s return from New Amsterdam; and when he came, 
such a weddin’ as we did have ! The like of it or of the 
handsome couple was never seen in these parts. Soon the 
happy man took his lovely bride to his Virginia home. 
He, like all his kindred, had high notions of royalty, and 
ever sided agin common folks; and so when their first boy 
was born he was named Rupert after that dashin’ German 
Prince who was related to English kings, and who did 
such valiant service for the Cavaliers agin the hated 
Roundheads. The son grew up with much of the proud 
spirit of the father, and though he hath something of the 
mother’s gentleness, and though great care hath been be- 
stowed upon his breedin’ and education, methinks he is 
full of the self-will and vanity which seek little but self- 
indulgence. Such is Rupert Fairfield as I view the young 
man; though to be sure Gabriel Van Onkelbach hath a far 
better opinion of him, which I’m free to say is much in his 
favor. But for the matter o’ that ye can judge for your- 
self, as I hear he’s soon to come again to this neighbor- 
hood where he hath spent part of most of his latest growin’ 
years. And look ye, all the maids are expected to fall in 
love with the handsome fellow, while he sometimes deigns 
to notice such as may chance to draw his idle fancy, es- 
pecially them as already have lovers. I expect nothing 
less than that my niece will have a turn with him. But 
bless me, what is that ?” 

There was a sudden alarm among the children without, 
and Ebba quietly withdrew to ascertain its cause. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

The cause of the loud outcry which drew Ebba from 
the house was soon apparent. Little Eric had been chas- 
ing yellow birds from one tall thistle to another at the 
cost of many sore prickings of his fat face and fingers, 
when soon a large buzzard, circling low, attracted his won- 
dering attention. Running with upward gaze after the 
slowly receding bird, the little fellow had tumbled into a 
marshy puddle, and his mingled shouts of fun and fear had 
drawn' the other children from their play to add to the 


344 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


childish uproar. At the same instant Nicodemus Knight, 
on pretense of looking up a stray heifer, by chance or de- 
sign strolled past, and rushing to the rescue, had in his 
haste seized the urchin at the wrong end, as being the most 
mudless and accessible part of his besmeared person. 
Thus borne off by the sturdy yeoman, the rescued young- 
ster, with downward head, was loading the air with his 
lusty bawlings, as Ebba hastily approached. But as his 
cries were caused less by bodily injury than b}^ his in- 
verted position, when the child was righted he presented 
an appearance less of direful grief than of dirty grotesque- 
ness of countenance; and so the hastening neighbors, 
drawn by the excitement, retired, and matters resumed 
their wonted quiet. 

But if the trials of the youthful adventurer were over, 
those of his guardian adults were just beginning. Nico- 
demus Knight had marked Ebba’s determined purpose to 
avoid him the past Sunday at church, and it had smarted 
through all his dull sensibilities. His vanity, at least, if 
nothing better, was now flattered by her well-expressed 
thanks for his services to the child. But his preseiA 
gratification and the memory of more than one past slight 
were conflicting emotions which in no wise promoted his 
composure. Not being sufficiently re-assured to venture 
upon a bold request for an immediate walk together, he 
strongly hinted his desire to such effect. This being 
politely unheard or unheeded — he struggled in the vain 
effort to find suitable speech; he coughed and whistled; 
he twirled his thumbs, he adjusted his tobacco with 
quickened expectorations and awkwardl}^ shifted his 
weight from one foot to the other. It was no use; he 
could summon neither words nor easy silence. Mean- 
while Ebba began moving slowly toward the house. The 
man grew desperate. 

“ Hope it’ll be a good day to-morrow,” he at length 
blurted out. It was alwa3^s his last recourse in difficult 
openings. 

Ebba nodded her silent concurrence in that reasonable 
wish. 

” And do ye know wh>^ I hope for good weather?” 

The lady intimated that she was unblest with that 
knowledge. 

” Because if it’s a fair day I shall finish my haV and 
barley and start in on the best field o’ wheat in this 
colony.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


345 


Pausing, he drew up his tall form and filled his lungs. 
Ebba took alarm and quickened her steps. Mr. Knight 
hastened on with overtaking strides. 

“There be them,” he persisted, “as is indifferent to 
the weather, for they’ve got little it can make or break. 
They’ve got smooth hands and smoother tongues, and 
though they be above work and fool ye wi’ flatterin words 
they have more sham than substance, and while plain 
folks plant and plan and get a plenty, these pretenders gad 
about with more gab than gold gettin’ rid of what they’ve 
got. And there’ll be one o’ the shammest of ’em all 
round here afore long, from what I hear: and I would 
merely warn ye that it’s neither the wise nor the wary as 
is won by sich a simperin’ saplin’ as ye’ll find him. 
And I tell ye that — ’’ 

But Ebba was passing beyond hearing. She more than 
ever realized that the speaker, like other ponderous 
bodies, was as hard to stop as to start, and now that he 
was fairly going, she pushed on -in hopes of escaping the 
wordy avalanche she had reason to expect. Upon reach- 
ing the yard gate she invited her companion into the 
house. He at first intimated his intention to accept: but 
catching sight of dame Signild leering at him over her 
wash tub, he excused himself and hastily strode away. 
The madam’s face, dividing its glances between Ebba and 
the besmirched Eric preceding her, assumed a comical look 
of mixed wonder and raillery, and she dived the more 
intently into her work as if to seek the solution of court- 
ship problems in the foamy efficacy of soap-suds. 

But now this Swedish damsel, at her first leisure, turned 
from the frettings of man to the peace of nature. Daily 
she had gazed with longing eyes upon that nearest inland 
hill which broadly rounded itself midwa}^ between the two 
approaching streams. This quiet afternoon it was outlined 
against an amber sky belted with subtle blendings of saf- 
fron, rose and orange, all reared upon a broad pedestal of 
purple. The combined allurement was not to be resisted. 
After a ten minutes’ walk over a gentle rise, Ebba 
■climbed up short bold hills, natural wooded terraces, and 
roamed amid the alternating groves and fields where are 
to-day Wilmington’s solidest structures and busiest streets. 
Further westward a wooded height lifted the sky line in 
loftier and grander sweep. With added zest and keener 
scent she pushed on and turned to gaze from what is now 
the site of the city’s highest reservoir. She saw the Chris- 
tiana wind its silvery current through green meadows on 


346 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


her right. On the left the Brandywine hills in their 
wooded sweep tendered their stately greeting, while in 
front the broad, bright Delaware, with its background of 
level woods, glided in such dreamy tranquility as hinted 
of infinite harmonies. Never, surely, was fairer picture 
of the kind than that which broadly faded- away in the 
darkening twilight. 

Returning she bore leftward to the Brandywine amid its 
lower banks. As she descended, the quivering uplands 
were cooled by the lowland air, and night seemed to hasten 
with the hum of insects. After a tramp of such intense 
enjo3^ment Ebba had a grimly jovial .sense of being a re- 
turning prodigal; for while neighborly frogs croaked the 
day’s requiem, friendly fire-flies sparkled their welcome, 
and with hoarser moans the night-hawks swooped down 
their greetings. As she neared the creek harvest odors 
floated to her from the bordering uplands, and all about 
were thos€ nameless hoverings of the sounds and scents of 
balmy summer which specially exhale over summer 
waters. And little need to say how much were these 
simple things to our rambling friend. With something of 
the pagan’s wild impulses, in the appreciation of outward 
nature, Ebba Borjeson lived far in advance of her time. 
Her detection of beauty in little things and large was as 
much an intuition as a subtle eye for form and color. And 
thus it came that by ceaseless fealty to her inborn ideals 
she anticipated much of that modern perception which 
connects objective nature with the soulful essence of poetry 
and art. 

But Ebba did not alone enjoy the sweet peace of this 
midsummer night. Its languishing fruition was absorbed 
in goodly measure by the genial master of Cooper’s Is- 
land. Gabriel Van Onkelbach had long gazed abroad 
from the porch of his log residence. To him the low 
lingering sun stretched his focal shimmer with straight and 
dazzling aim. His golden rays touched the broad cheeks 
of the kindly man; they streamed into his island abode 
and lighted up its dusky contents; they tinged his oaken 
sideboard and the ancestral clock so fondly prized ; they 
kissed the ancient family lute, warmed the smoky breadth 
of the capacious fire-place and showed that one volume 
was missing from the little collection of well-thumbed 
books. The absent volume was Don Quixote. It had 
been taken out upon the porch some hours before, and its 
mirth-making passages devoured by its worthy owner for 
the hundredth time. Reading and smoking had gone on 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


347 


in loving company, but as the level sun broadW diffused 
his ruddy adieu, the book was closed and the Dutchman’s 
head was hidden in a denser cloud of tobacco smoke. 
Smoking among the early colonists was hardly more a lux- 
ury than necessity, as it aided their defence against in- 
sects; but it was little proof now or ever against the night 
assaults of savage mosquitoes. And so as darkness re-in- 
forced the assailants, the assailed strengthened his de- 
fences, to which he finally added the thickened fumes of a 
well-made smudge, under cover of which the tormented 
islander retired within his fortress. 

An hour later, as Ebba gazed from her chamber win- 
dow, a candle light flickered feebly from the lonely side. 
In the very droning of the summer night there was a hush 
whose spell was deepened by its melancholy monotone. 
Soon it was broken by a low distant noise which slowly 
grew louder. Then as Ebba listened she thought she 
heard the measured stroke of oars. The sounds seemed 
to come from beyond Crane-hook church; they grew 
nearer, and presently by the chance shimmer of a 
young moon she faintly discerned a row-boat circle from 
the river into the Christiana. The boat entered the 
mouth of the Brandywine as Ebba sought her bed, and as 
the rower struggled against the ebbing current of that 
stream the low sound of the labored strokes lulled the 
tired girl to sleep. 

But the light was still dimly twinkling from the cabin of 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach. Neither the fast waning hours 
nor the persistent mosquitoes could divert the more per- 
sistent reader from the matchless adventures of the 
valorous Knight de la Mancha. As he finished a racy 
chapter there came a knock at his door. 

“ Der deyvil! who comes at dis hour?” 

” No devil,” was the response as the door dashed open, 
” but a belated wanderer — even Rupert Fairfield.” 

” Why, mein Gott, Rupe !” 

” Uncle Gabe !” 

And the two rushed together in a cordial embrace. 

” Rupe, mein poy, I vas shust so glad to see you as 
nefer vas ! Now vhen, vhere und how come ye, eh?” 

“I reached New Castle this evening from Virginia 
through head of Chesapeake, and I was so impatient to 
see you that I couldn’t wait till morning, but have rowed 
five miles against time and tide.” 

” Bravo ! dot vas shust so headstrong und love-mad like 
mine poy, all der time ; und den he vas so long gone dot 


348 


Ebba Borjeson. 


I pegin to vender of he don’t vas come no more, eh ? But 
at last tou comest niit heroic generosity like a valorous 
Don Quixote, to rescue an olt man from his lonely exile.” 

“Rather like his squire Sancho Panzo, to claim his 
promised island or at least share in its insular loneliness.” 

“ As you vill; only dere be no loneliness when Rupe is 
here; und he vas so goot as not tovait till morning. Vhy, 
who comes mit such rash fealty in der dark makes truly a 
night-errand in dese tings shust so goot as a knight-errant 
in der olden dtimes, metinks, eh ?” 

“A pun, by all the gods! a clever double play upon 
words. And can generous knight of wealth and wit 
refuse such a mite of an isle as this to his faithful serving 
man ?” 

“ O’ der island und irony alike be Rupe’s; but I do pro- 
test me dot he, not I, vas der roving knight searching for 
adventures — he, der shivalrous master, not der dutiful 
Sancho. Now, confess, thou valiant lofer ov vine und 
vomen, who vas thy latest Dulcinea; vhat vind-mill foe 
hast vanquished; vhat vile oppressor or sorry knave put 
to flight; vhat new Princess ov Mecomiconia hast served, 
und how und vhere hast mine Rupe been doing such long 
penance for some lady-love ov matchless beauty, eh?” 

Why, Uncle Gabe, what means this sudden outburst of 
Quixotic references ? Art thyself getting dazed ? Is the 
truest of discerning readers in danger of wandering from 
his favorite Shakspere; of playing false with rare Ben Jon- 
son; of losing his fondly simple taste for scriptural — ah, I 
see — this volume of Don Quixote here explains all — and it 
is open, I notice, at the night-adventures at the country inn 
where the valorous knight beheaded the wine-bag giants 
and spilled their copious gore — ” 

“ Vich remind me ov mein own vine-bags,” interposed 
Uncle Gabe, as he suddenly sprang to his feet, “und ov 
mine scurvy neglect as a host; pray oxcuse me von 
moment.” 

And the host, bustling out of the room, speedily returned 
with a huge garden gourd and goblets. 

“ Of ve lif only in der vilderness,” he resumed, 
as he poured out the sparkling liquor, “ ve grow 
selfish und more forgetful as a beast. Rupe, ver goot 
healt !” 

“ Old Jacquet’s medlar, as I live !” exclaimed the guest 
as he tasted the fluid and then held it to the light; “ and a 
very elixir it is — a drink fit for the gods. Though im- 
mortal Shakspere proclaimed the medlar rotten ere it be 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


349 


ripe, methinks whether rotten or ripe it distils as superb a 
wine as ere quickened wit or ministered to love and war; 
and ’tis relished as well by saint as sinner; for dost not re- 
member how Bankers and Sluyter, those missionary Laba- 
dists, did smack their pious lips over it three years 
ago?” 

‘‘Yaw, dey shust tink it much goot; und metinks it 
be fair; und it serve me very goot turn since der 
last home-brewing from barley vas no so goot; yaw, ’tis 
fair.” 

‘‘ Fair !” ejaculated the guest as the goblets were being 
filled for the third time ; ‘ ' no vintage honored in song or 
story ere more tickled generous blood. But come now. 
Uncle Gabe, tell me all the news; I’ve been away longer 
than usual you know: tell me all that has happened. And 
first tell me, dear good soul, just how you are in health 
and spirits; tell me what new people have come into the 
settlement and all about the old ones; who are married and 
who are dead, who have built new houses and got new 
babies; and oh, how is dame Signild; how is Nic. Knight; 
how is miller Tapoeise at Skilpadle falls: how are 
Staelcop and Stidham and old Blinckenheim and every- 
body ?” 

‘‘Vas dat all? Now der deyvil fetch me! as Sancho 
would say, of dis Rupe ov mine dont convict himself ov 
having made a knightly crusade among der vomen folk : 
for how else could he so string his questions und rattle his 
curiosity. Vhew ! yhere I shall pegin? Veil now, after 
reporting dot most beoples shook und raged mit der marsh 
fevers in der fall und got veil, und dot some got new 
houses und more got newer bapies, den I shall tell ye 
about der new mill.” 

‘ ‘ Another mill ? heigho !” exclaimed the visitor, ‘ ‘ why 
that does seem like getting on. But if it’s a grain mill I 
fear it may interfere with the grinding of good Tapoeise 
here at Turtle Falls on the Skilpadle. He is an honest 
fellow now, whose stature is as small as his family is large, 
and I hope nothing may shorten his earnings ; and sure 
nothing will, if his grists be as good as his stories.” 

‘ ‘ But dey are not, I be sorry to say ; und der fault lies 
less mit der miller as der mill, vhich once vas much goot, 
but has got so out ov order dot it can’t do goot vork nor 
meet der growing demand. Und so last fall Be Ua Grange 
got der vacant land und marsh above New Castle und vill 
build dere a goot vind-mill und charge no more as a tenth 


350 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


for toll. Und all der peobles be glad und I pe happy for 
dere sakes und for yours.” 

” Why, for mine ?” 

‘ ‘ Because mein Rupe may haf a vind-mill foe here mit- 
oudt staying so lon^ avay to fight dere giant. vings mit 
Quixotic valor.” 

“Hear the worshipful knave! how he still rides his 
chivalric hobb}^ as a very Rozinante. Why, I begin to 
fear thou hast in very truth gone mad and may fancy thy- 
self capable of being Valdovinos, Abindarraez, the twelve 
peers of France and the nine worthies all at once. Would 
I could disenchant thee by a blast of Sancho Panza’s pro- 
verbs, for, methinks, ’twas that worthy who said that ‘What 
the eye views not, the heart rues not,’ and ‘Where we are 
least aware there starts the hare and, fearing further 
madness from thy island-solitude, thou shouldst be warned 
that ‘ Not with whom thou wert bred, but with whom thou 
hast fed.” 

‘ ‘Mit whom ve shall drink, methinks pe e’en more to 
der point : und so by your leave ve vill shust take a leedle 
ov der dear creature here, as spake goot Tosilos of his 
calabash ; und so mitoudt more ado yust hold your cup 
und here ve go.” 

‘‘ Tell a Dutchman about vind-niills!” resumed the host, 
smacking his lips ; ‘‘shust so veil teach a duck how to 
svim : und yust so much look for such mill to go vhen der 
vind vont blow. Und so ve haf more shances vhen der 
Quakers set up dere mill.” 

‘‘ Still another mill?” 

‘‘Efen. so; to be fetched, ready framed, from England 
und set up near Uplandt. I expect ye’ve heard ov King 
Charles vast grant of a province to dere Quakers’ great 
leader, dis Vilhelm Penn; but mayhap yo. know not der 
latest news dot dis same Quaker ish puying from der 
king’s broder all dese vest side territories avay down to 
der Whorekills.” 

‘‘ The devil! Is this whole country then to be overrun by 
these mild-mannered dissenters? Perdition catch the 
cursed people who are as humble as heretical, and who will 
neither fight nor flinch— the peaceful purist pests, bah ! 
We’ll change the subject. How is Nic Knight?” 

‘‘ As sore as efer ofer der loss of his lady-luf; und as 
full of direful moans und anger at him who caused his 
trouble. Und in good sooth, Rupe, ton served’st a scurvy 
trick upon both, to cut oudt der man und den drop der girl. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


351 


It much griefed Onkel Cabe, und vas der vorse act he efer 
haf known of his poy, or efer vill again he hopes.” 

” Good soul, don’t preach; it was as much the girl’s 
fault as my own. But have neither of them since mar- 
ried ?” 

” No; Nic’s fancy is taken now by anoder girl mit whom 
der poor fellow vill haf no better luck efen mitout a rival 
or I’m no shudg.” 

” Indeed! who is the new goddess ?” 

‘ ‘Oh, I guess I haf not told ye ov dis latest stranger among 
us — dis Ebba Borjeson, a young lady fresh from. Stock- 
holm.” 

“A lady — from Sweden! I dare be sworn, one of these 
stolid sorrel-tops with sun-browned cheeks, big feet, big- 
ger frame and yellow hair.” 

” On der contrary mit raven locks und lithe figure.” 

‘‘Doubtless a creature with bony joints and exposed 
gums whose blood is very snow-broth! Where lives this 
maiden ?” 

‘‘ With dame Signild, who is her aunt.” 

‘ ‘ Dame Signild ! In a love tournament I am unhorsed 
in advance; for dame Signild, methinks, holds me not in 
favor.” 

‘‘ True, an it be dame Signild ton would’st sue; else dot 
may be not at all against thee. Der lady is as self-willed 
as soft-hearted, und metinks she must haf such greatness 
of soul as might enlist, pershance, some romantic sym- 
pathy for der debarred suitor, if suitor tou must be, as 
usual.” 

‘‘ By Jove ! thou prickest my curiosity. I will meet 
her.” 

‘‘ Haf a care! Her scorn ov small gallantries may make 
her shrink mitin her real self, und she vill be as invisible 
to thy shallow eyes as tou shalt be laid bare to her divin- 
ing soul.” 

‘‘The presuming hussy! Dare she defy a Virginian’s 
pride ?” 

‘‘ Aye, mit a prouder indifference. She’s like veritable 
schild ov der mad Berserks, full ov old heroic tenderness 
und fiery repose, mit such a vild noble spirit dot she vill 
none ov der petty subterfuges or polished shams ov society. 
Mayhap tou better not meet her.” 

‘‘ bounds, man ! Your words but fire my blood. I long 
to test the mettle of this complacent jade. And if not 
beautiful withal, thou said’st, methinks, she is young; per- 
chance like unto Shakespeare’s Isabella, of whom spake 


352 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Claudio: ‘For in her youth there is a prone and speechless 
dialect, such as moves men/ ” 

“ Efen so; Ebba moves ’em mit her gentle, speakin’ 
silence more as mit her vinsome youth: und she some- 
times seems most present vhen she shrinks avay in proud 
humility, looking jmst so grimly apart as der dark hills ov 
her stern northland. Vilt still see her?” 

‘‘ More resolved than ever to meet the creature.” 

‘‘So shalt my Rupe; but now tou art aveary; und so 
mit a parting tdrop ov der vaiting medlar ve’ll to bed, eh, 
mein poy ?” 


CHAPTER E. 

It was with something of unconfessed vexation that 
Rupert Fairfield sought his bed that night. The room he 
occupied was the one spare apartment of the island home, 
which served the combined purposes of guest-chamber, 
parlor, and repository of treasured relics. Its contents 
were familiar enough to the oft-welcomed occupant, but 
what was unfamiliar to him was the annoying persistence 
with which thoughts of any woman thrust themselves 
upon him. His usual self-complacency was undeniably 
ruffled. Despite his affected unconcern visions of the 
wanton intruder coquetted with him. His footing in the 
.settlement was challenged, and even the aspect of this old 
apartment seemed less friendly to him. The very quaint- 
ness of Uncle Gabe’s .descriptive reference to the young 
lady suggested a forceful, free, defiant creature who might 
not less wound his vanity than pique his curiosity. 

‘‘With her self-poised, humility,” echoed the words; 
‘‘with her scorn of small gallantries:” indeed! this 
obscure girl — this tame blooded Swede to thus give her- 
self airs of quiet superiority ! She will ignore, will she, 
the aristocracy she cannot match? — she will dare — this 
presuming minx — to meet my proud blood and breeding 
with a prouder indifference, will she ? We shall see I 
With such thoughts the young man lashed his pride and 
banished sleep while stoutly avowing his perfect in- 
difference to the new-comer — while’ asseverating the 
absurdity of his giving a thought to a girl well-nigh 
beneath his notice — a girl whom he had never seen 
and had no real desire to see. ‘‘The idea!” he 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


353 


vScornfully muttered as he tossed on his sleepless bed — 
“ the very idea of a game of the passions between this 
chit of the north with her veins of snow-broth, and the 
warm blood of a gallant Virginian ! Be the consequences 
with whoever provokes the tilt !” Then his defiant mood 
softened as he remembered what Uncle Gabe said of 
Ebba’s romantic sympathy with a debarred suitor, and he 
gave himself credit for yielding to better promptings as he 
thought of the possible indulgence of his ruling pro- 
pensity for adventurous flirtation; and finally, chiding him- 
self for a self- teasing simpleton, he resolved to think no 
more of the matter, and so fell asleep thinking of it. 

In the morning he told himself he had slept off his 
silliness, and he even persuaded himself that he did not 
care to see the lady at all : and when his host enquired 
respecting their proposed call upon dame Signild, the 
young man affected so much indifference that Uncle Gabe 
remarked with a quizzical look, 

“ Veil, den dere’s no combulsion, und ve shust put it off 
till nexdt veek or some Oder time.” 

“As you please, sir: I am your guest and await your 
pleasure.” 

‘‘Heigho! Dis lofty self-combosure, now.” But the 
contrast between the polite indifference of the words and 
the half-forced tone of their utterance did not escape the 
hearer. 

”0, ve go midt der up tide or sometime mebpe vhen it 
better suits, eh ? Dere is no hurry, ye know, vhen ve like 
Oder tings all der vhile sometimes far better, metinks, 
a’ready.” 

With which comforting observation the Dutchman, with 
a lurking grin in his face, stretched himself in affected 
composure, while his young companion tried to hide his dis- 
appointment by whistling his indifference. But they had 
barely commenced their acted parts before the sound of 
oars was heard, Seb appeared at the landing with the row- 
boat, and in a few moments they were on their way to make 
the proposed visit. 

The sudden summons caused Rupert Fairfield some 
quickened pulsations. And he would scarcely admit to 
himself his secret satisfaction that the boat’s slow progress 
against the ebbing tide gave time to collect himself. Ac- 
customed as he was to advancing as conqueror and to con- 
quor in his amatory ventures, it was a new sensation to ex- 
perience any serious doubt of the result. What could 
there be about this unheralded maiden to cause him trepi- 

23 


354 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


dation ? Nothing surely but what his own imagination had 
conjured. But that same imagination was growing busier 
with its formidable creations. They gave bod}" and force 
to the words of Uncle Gabe, which haunted his memory, 
and in spite of himself he did not grow at ease with the 
echoing sentences “ greatness of soul — wild, noble spirit — 
scorn of polished shams.” Yet was he to be fettered or 
frightened by this kind of thing? Not he ! But — yes, he 
would be a little on his guard and at the best or worst only 
amuse himself for a time with this odd creature who had 
ventured to cross his path. 

And now they have rounded in from the Brandywine 
and landed at the head of the Black Cat. Approaching 
the house they pause a moment at the door. Ebba is with 
the children in the garden, and hearing footsteps, she 
gazes from behind the large lilac bush which hides her 
from view. What she sees, beside the familiar figure of 
Uncle Gabe, is the symmetrical form of a young man with 
regular features, wearing an expression of languid hauteur 
and indicating both strong propensities toward weak self- 
indulgence and frank aspirations to nobler purposes. And 
this, she guesses, must be Rupert Fairfield. 

Their knock at the door being answered by dame Sig- 
nild, the two visitors enter the house and exchange greet- 
ings with her whom they find alone. . 

‘ ‘ ’Tis a young man but oldt frien’,” said Uncle Gabe, 

‘ ‘ who comes to pay his respects ; ‘ ‘ und ye know he 
claims Christeen as his home most so more as Virginia, 
metinks.” 

‘‘ Even if a little ashamed of our homely wa3"s,” replied 
the old dame, with a doubting side-glance. 

” Nay, proud am I, not ashamed,’^ said Rupert, “to greet 
the place and friends of my mother’s early home. And a 
goodly home it verily is — a place where peace and plenty 
seem to preserve youth and reward good consciences; nay, 
good looks as well, if appearances deceive not; for I de- 
clare now, upon my honor, that our good madam here 
looks positively younger and fresher than when I left here 
two years ago.” 

“Hist! Rupert Fairfield; ye’re welcome enough, but 
truth to say ye’d be the welcomer to leave your flattery 
behind ye.” 

“ But it is simple truth, madam, not flattery.” 

“ Whate’er these two years have fetched or lost, ’tis the 
same wily tongue ye wag : and methinks ye could afford 
to have dipt your speech to have grown in grace.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


355 


“ But I protest, Madam, I meant to--” 

“If ye must be at your old tricks,” persisted the irate 
dame, ” try ’em upon younger game : I am too old to be 
caught by chaff or emptyin’s. I hoped ye had mended 
your ways and laid in a new stock o’ fashionable wares, 
but these faded fineries ye must take to a keener market.” 

” Oxcuse me, neighbor Signild,” interposed Uncle Gabe, 
as well to change the subject as to expedite the special ob- 
ject of their call — ” is Mamsell Borjeson at home ?” 

‘ ‘ Bless my heart, yes, to be sure : she was here but 
now; excuse me, gentlemen, I will see — ” and the old 
matron hurriedly left the room in search of her grand- 
child. But her purpose had been partially anticipated ; 
for Rupert Fairfield, with a double reason for wishing the 
presence of Ebba, had caught eagerly at every sign of her 
appearance, when, happening to hear children’s voices 
without, he saw through the window something which so ab- 
sorbed his attention that the dame’s cutting last fling was 
measurably lost upon him. It was a young lady romping 
with the children in the garden. This could be no other 
than the object of his latest thoughts, the Swedish new- 
comer. With a quick close scrutiny he scanned her ap- 
pearance. Masses of blue-black hair surmounted a color- 
less face : she was seemingly without special st5de and she 
was certainly far from imposing or statuesque. So much 
was apparent from a glance. He breathed freer ; he 
began to think he had suffered needless apprehension con- 
cerning this girl. He revived his helpful pride and began 
to indulge his olden air of easy condescension in anticipa- 
tion of coming triumph. 

But these comforting reflections were suddenly inter- 
rupted by the appearance of the young woman who was 
the innocent subject of them. She was accompanied b}" 
her aunt, who made due introduction, and the old lady 
being now engaged by Uncle Gabe in separate conversa- 
tion, Ebba was left to the young visitor from Virginia. 
The young lady greeted the gentleman with a voice of 
cheery composure, and she lifted to him an open face in 
which there sat all the frank confidence, all the easy and 
absolute unconsciousness of a child. 

“Oh, I have heard much of you, sir,” came her ready 
greeting, ‘ ‘ your coming seems to have been as generally 
as it was gladly anticipated.” Her manner was free alike 
from constraint and gush : it was colorless in tone and ac- 
cent as became the language of respectful intercourse. 
But the listener was delighted. The words were gracious- 


35 ^ 


Ebb a Boi'jcso7i. 


ly as well as gracefully spoken, with not a trace of the 
curt reserve he had half apprehended. At the very out- 
set she had tickled his vanity and placed him at his ease. 

“ Yes,” he replied, with a satisfied manner, “I believe 
I am pretty well known in this little community. Chris- 
teen is one of my homes, as it were, and it is a place to 
which I am always glad to return.’’ 

‘ ‘ At which one cannot wonder, for you seem to have 
many good friends here.’’ 

The gentleman bowed his gratified assent. She grew 
charming, he thought, as he asked himself what could ex- 
ceed the subtle grace of words that thus rather implied 
than expressed delicate compliments. 

“And there is one among them,’’ continued Ebba, as 
her voice softened with an almost tremulous ^low, ‘ ‘ so 
nobly worthy that he ought to prove irresistable if you 
had no others.’’ 

“ You allude to Gabriel Van Onkelbach ? Yes, yes, he 
is an odd enough creature, but a good old soul, whom I — ” 
He checked himself; he had noticed a sudden shade flit 
over the contracted brow of his listener. She had de- 
tected the patronizing condescension in his words, and with 
her eyes cast upon the floor slowly said as if speaking to 
herself — 

“ I should value such a friend above all earthly price; 
he is unselfish, gentle and good, and his fealty is a very 
mountain of steadfastness.’’ 

‘ ‘ Granted ; and he is most fortunate in having so appre- 
ciative and sincere an admirer as yourself.’’ 

Ebba bit her lip as with a clouded brow she gave the 
speaker a single swift glance of rebuke without speaking. 

“Uncle Gabe,’’ he quickly resumed, “is all you say 
and more.” 

‘ ‘ More than a kindly and valiant soul — the soul of honor 
and gentle loyalty ?’ ’ 

“I mean, he is a born gentleman, has bravely served 
his native land, and is a scholarly and well-read man. In 
truth, I have always experienced in full the same wonder 
respecting him that, if you will pardon me, I now enter- 
tain regarding yourself.’’ 

‘ ‘ And that is ?” 

‘ ‘ That either of you with your knowledge and happy 
experience of your native Europe, with its advantages, its 
gayeties and enjoyments, should be content in this wilder- 
ness.’’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 357 

“ Think you not, then, that there may be greater content 
in an humbler field ?” 

“ Possibly; but I know not how or where. To leavq the 
pleasures of Europe for the pleasures of this land of dark- 
ness is to plunge from Heaven to Hades; and to do it of 
one’s own free will seems to me very like self-banish- 
ment.” 

“So it would be, perchance, if to seek onl}^ one’s own 
pleasure were the chief or highest aim of life; but is it 
not a nobler and happier purpose to labor in the full sim- 
ple performance of duty, however lowh^?’’ 

“So the rector of our church preaches,” replied Rupert, 
with a smirk of gay mockery upon his disdainful lips; 

‘ ‘ but w^e always fancied it was intended chiefly for our 
niggers and low whites. It is one of those moral reflec- 
tions one expects to hear from the pulpit; and it sounds 
well there, as it may possibly serve to console the poor 
and the vulgar; but do 3^011 imagine the sentiment seriously 
fitted to persons of qualit}^ aii}" more than it is relished by 
them ?’ ’ 

“ It is a lesson for all, and specially needful for people 
of wealth and power, whose duties are measured bj" their 
opportunities. There is surely no comparison between 
the simplest performance of dut3', the practice of real self- 
denial, and the pursuit of mere pleasure, however inno- 
cent or refined ; the one palls upon the pursuer often in the 
moment of possession; the other-is a durable joy.” 

“Who would have imagined,” said the gentleman, 
tossing his head with ralEung laughter, ‘ ‘ that so sprightly 
a young lady could be so versed in sober philosophy! But 
craving her pardon, will the philosopher permit me to en- 
quire what particular duties or pleasures are afforded her 
here in Christeen to allow of a philosophical choice be- 
tween the baser and the nobler part ?” 

“ O, I grant,” replied Ebba, smiling gayly as a slight 
flush touched her cheeks, “that my grave duties are 
limited chiefly to the care of the children. But may there 
not be more pleasure in the faithful doing of the simple 
duties one finds close at hand than to aim at the more 
ambitious and important ones abroad ? But whether with 
the great or the humble, true happiness sureE' conies as 
the result of toil and sacrifice — follows those virtues as 
their incident and fruit, and should never precede them as 
a special object of pursuit.” 

“ Yes, 3'es, it certainly sounds well, especially from the 
lips of a charming young la — ; coming thus the theory 


358 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


seems well-nigh fit to be practiced as well as applauded. 
Nevertheless, I confess to the sin of pursuing pleasure for 
its own sake, and hav’nt yet been — as pious folk say — 
brought to a realizing sense, and all that, of my wicked- 
ness. But seriously, the hardest part of it for me to com- 
prehend is that Europeans of educated tastes and accus- 
tomed to the established forms of a respectable religion, 
can find enough, either in the way of duty or pleasure, to 
attract them to a wild land of heathen ignorance, to which 
are flocking all the religious disturbers — all the Puritans, 
Eabadists and heretical Quakers in Christendom.” 

“Why, in that, methinks, is the special glory of this 
New World — it is a land of promise and protection to the 
persecuted worshippers of all creeds and all nations; and 
if their place of refuge be the repulsive wilderness you 
picture, you must, at least, grant the sincerity of believers 
who exchange the dear associations and comforts of home 
for the hardships encountered abroad. But after all,” 
she continued, with a smiling side-glance, “may I not a 
little question your own sincerity in this matter since you 
do not seem repelled by this chosen resort of these latest 
and worst pests, the Quakers?” 

” Oh, as to that, there are other considerations and mo- 
tives to influence one; besides I freely grant that this 
rabble mass of rough-scuff humanity is being most beauti- 
fully leavened by the choicest representatives of Pmrope’s 
best society. By such means we will hope for the speedy 
redemption of the whole lump. Why, for my part,” con- 
tinued the speaker, hesitating for a bold venture, ” do you 
suppose for a moment that I could have absented myself 
for two whole years from my Christeen home here had I 
imagined that the little place had received so charming an 
addition to its humble society ?” 

In ominous silence followed this speech. Rupert’s prior 
efforts in the same line had not been successful, and he 
half dreaded the result of this bolder venture: but he had 
been regaining his olden confidence and could hardly 
resist its impelling momentum. Gathering himself for a 
fresh effort he was launching forth again with a cumulative 
glow, when he suddenly stopped. His half-spoken 
sentence was arrested by the sight of Ebba’s face. It did 
not betray confusion or express resentment. The lady 
acted no scene and affected no offended modesty: she 
simply ignored the offence and the offender alike. With a 
single steely flash of her protesting eyes she sank into a half 
saddened reverie, and with a far-away gaze as of dreamy 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


359 


unconcern quietly" looked through the glib gallant as through 
so much vacant space. He stammered in confusion; the 
amatory armor at his usual command would not serve 
him: his attempted speech choked in his throat. “ Curse 
the jade!” he muttered to himself, “can I advance 
neither by fretting or flattering her? and am I an insect 
that I must be attracted and repelled at her pleasure?” 
Balked and chagrined at his awkward rebuff he assumed a 
look of proud defiance, tried to cough his unconcern, and 
turned in his seat in the vain effort to recover his ease. 
At this moment he seemed to hear Uncle Gabe’s warning, 

‘ ‘ she will be as invisible to thy shallow eyes as thou shalt 
be laid bare to her divdning soul.” The remembered 
words were like a mocking echo which neither served nor 
solaced him, and the young man felt the situation grow- 
ing every moment more embarrassing, when Uncle Gabe 
suddenly came to the rescue by proposing a walk to the 
ruins of the old fort. This brought apparent relief to 
both of the young people, and the proposition having 
been overheard by some of the children, received eager 
endorsement from them, especially when it was found that 
as grandame Signild could not well go. Uncle Gabe would 
be left as their special companion. 

But alas for their young anticipations, some unobserved 
clouds had been rapidly gathering, and the sky now began 
to lower with threatening blackness over their heads. In 
a few moments one of those scarcely heralded thunder gusts 
peculiar to American summers poured its copious torrents 
upon the thirsty earth. The proposed walk was deferred 
till the morrow, much to the disappointment of the chil- 
dren. Whether the young couple who would still have been 
left together were equally disappointed, is perhaps doubt- 
ful. And it was then equally doubtful what conclusion 
the male member of the two arrived at with reference to 
his latest female acquaintance. That she was an entirely 
different type of young lady from any specimen he had be- 
fore encountered, he was fully convinced; but whether, as 
he repeatedly queried of himself that night, her originality 
should prove of an alluring or disagreeable nature re- 
mained to be determined. 


360 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER LI. 

On the following day the visit which had been deferred 
by the sudden rain was duly made to the ruins of fort 
Christina. As the tide now chanced to be at the flood the 
islanders were not confined to the creek-channels in their 
movements, but swept over, the submerged marshes directly 
to the landing in front of dame Signild’s home. It was a 
bright sweet morning in early July, and as they were fav- 
ored with a treshening breeze from the north. Uncle Gabe 
was anxious to exhibit the yachting excellence of his favor- 
ite Sea Gull. His seafaring pride was roused indeed to 
the full for the occasion, and from the hurrying movements 
and loud commands successively shouted to “ Seb” and 
“Bast” and “Cab” and Bot” it might have been im- 
agined that a fully manned war-ship was being prepared for 
stress of weather or storm of battle. 

“ All hands up anchor ahoy !” cried the captain as they 
stepped into the yacht; “ man capstan-bars mit a vill ! Spry 
dere; nip her; now heaf avay !” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” responded the boatswain with the 
knowing air of sea-dog reserve moved to unwonted speech. 

“ Vhat say ye dere, mate ?” 

“ All stowed and aweigh, sir; everything clear.” 

“ Brafo ? den let fly all sheets — up mit everytings, 
shrouds, shreds und rags; all hands to it now mit goot heart, 
hoorah !” 

The little craft glided out from the island shore; and as 
the happy skipper held the helm with a caressing fondness 
he gazed proudly about him. 

“Und now, but gif Sea Gull a cap-full ov vind und a 
keel free ov mud, und she vill run off as a sea-fowl 
mit nimblest ving like der feathered flyer she vas named 
for.” 

‘ ‘Why, old boastful,” cried Rupert, ‘ ‘what’s become of thy 
modesty? methinks thyself e’en a’ most windy enough to 
blow a mud-scow in a calm.” 

“ Vindy or vhimsical, mein vater-nymph is more as a 
vinsome maid to doting fader. Boastful, quotha ? Vhy, 
e’en luf-blind Rupe must see her scharms though she haf 
no petticoat ; und I shust say dot mit a taffrail 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


361 


puff or any breeze ye vill, dare’s not so clean - 
heeled a hussy in dese vaters as can oferhaul mein 
saucy Sea Gull. 

“Not even that rakish flyer built for the New York 
smug — ?’’ 

“ Vhist ! She is not in dese vaters; und anyway vould 
ye compare a sharp-faced wanton, a dare-deyvil amazon 
mit a shy-footed maid ? But look yq now how she’ll aback 
und come again” — and the confident skipper in order to 
show the tractable accomplishments of his yacht in 
an emergency, suddenly improvised a half-hidden danger 
under her bows. 

“huff her!” he shouted in mock alarm, “luff ! luff 
her or we’re upon it ! Hard-a-lee; main top-sail haul ! 
helm hard down-! Let fly, men; forward und aft throw all 
aback !” 

With boyish gusto Seb sprang forth in fussy mimicry 
of the execution of the orders, and as the yacht responded 
in graceful compliance the single passenger shouted an un- 
affected “ Bravo ! a very belle in swaying courtesy.” 

“ Vhat I tole ye, Rupe ;” and the happy man visibly 
straightened himself as with sudden growth of stature. 

And so this and all other perils were happily escaped on 
this half-mile sail over the summer-faced bosom of a tidal 
marsh bay. The voyage had been closely watched from 
the start by the waiting children, and now, as they were 
huddled on the slope, they shouted an impatient welcome 
to the approaching boat. It was but a step to the old 
ruined fort, and its green mounds and surroundings were 
part of the children’s every-day playgrounds : but it was 
not every day that they had Uncle Gabe to point out the 
besieging places of the Dutch ; to imitate the bellicose 
struttings of the respective commanders and repeat that 
old story of the bloodless conflict, of which they never grew 
tired. And so it was that they had looked forward with 
childish eagerness to an event for which it hardly seemed 
possible they had waited but a single day. 

To the young Virginian the day, as may be supposed, 
brought an interest scarcely less, however different in 
character. Following the sudden turn and termination of 
his conversation with Ebba, while wounded pride repeat- 
edly assured him of his entire indifference to. her, he con- 
fessed that he would like to know, what he had not been 
able to decide, just what manner of creature this Swedish 
girl was. Was it then with a feeling only of curiosity that 
he sat awaiting the appearance of the young lady ? So he 


362 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


persuaded himself ; and yet he was obliged to confess that 
he was not quite at his ease — not exactly in such a temper 
of elegant composure as became a Virginia gentleman. 
While thus questioning with himself as he sat alone, the 
door softly opened and Ebba entered the room. She ad- 
vanced toward Rupert with extended hand and greeted 
him with an easy air of friendly candor ; and there was such 
entire unconstraint in her face and manner as seemed to 
put aside all possible recognition of any prior interview 
between them ; or if there was a reference to it the gen- 
tleman fancied he detected in it a tinge of added cordiality 
in her open-faced greeting. Ebba wore a plain simple 
dress of pure white muslin, and as -she turned her pale still 
face upon her companion she suggested to him the snow- 
plumed angel of peace. Was it a cold, passionless peace, 
or the hush of quieted force ? Did she symbolize not less 
the lulled volcanic fire than the snowy purity of the slum- 
brous north ? Well, he could not tell as yet, but when he 
felt turned upon him the deep quiet of unreadable eyes he 
knew she was no common girl, — that no surface play or 
paltry pretense would serve him in dealing with such an 
one. 

“Pardon me, sir,’’ she said, rising with easy dignity 
after some friendly interchanges, “they await us; shall 
we join them?’’ He arose reluctantly; it seemed the 
breaking of a spell. Turning with covert glance, he no- 
ticed the coyish free poise of her head : he saw that its 
rich black tresses encircled a single fresh rose, and as a 
certain latent fineness played about her rather irregular 
features he wondered that he could have thought her plain 
or in any wise wanting in marked appearance. 

They followed the others, who had started toward the 
fort. Soon they overtook aunt Signild and Uncle Gabe, 
who had marshaled the children in front of them. Cross- 
ing the easterly hill-slope they skirted the ancient natural 
harbor whose outlines are still discernable. At its nar- 
rowed mouth on the right had stood the fort on a well- 
chosen promontory of fastland protected by water and bog 
on all sides save that of its inland connection north- 
ward. The log superstructure, long in a state of gradual 
decay, had finally disappeared; vines were clambering 
over the stones of its crumbling parapet; its walled bas- 
tions, mouldering with earth and herbage, were rounded 
into green mounds; cows and goats were pasturing about 
its grassy slopes, and little more than the crude outlines 
were traceable of that germinal half-acre which was the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


363 


nucleus of empire — of that historic enclosure wherein be- 
gan the first military occupancy, the first Christian wor- 
ship, the first courts of justice and the first exercise of 
civil functions of the first permanent settlement in all the 
borders of the’ old South River. 

The children in their gleeful excitement had hastened 
onward, and mustering on the rounded centre of the 
ruins, there received the tardier old folk with swinging 
hats and boisterous welcomings. Mustered and led by 
Lars the young squad strode with military spirit, carried 
a variety of imaginary guns and shouted under the inspir- 
ation of an extemporized banner. With such stimulants 
and especiall}’’ under the applauding notice of two .such 
veterans as Uncle Gabe and grandame Signild they grew 
so valorous as to thirst for gore, and young Eric with 
swinging armor and; immense .strut formally challenged 
armed creation to the ordeal of battle. 

To the two veteran reviewers the spot was indeed full of 
pensive memories. They had been witnesses of most of 
the scenes there enacted; and, as may be supposed, their 
tongues were soon busy with memories of the past. 
They pointed out the places within the palisades where 
had stood the store-house, the Governor’s residence, the 
ancient chapel of the pioneer pastor, Rev. Reorus Torkil- 
lus, the spot whence the old bell had wakened the prime- 
val solitudes by its lonely summons to drill, church or 
court, and the place where civil trials had taken place. 
Over the last, with their early incidents, tragic, plaintive and 
grotesque, the old couple lingered with a fondness be- 
queathed by the quickly receding past. And when they 
came to speak of the famous trial of their old pastor Lock 
for breaking into the trunk of the man who had stolen 
away his wife, they found no easy stopping-place in re- 
hearsing that travesty of justice wherein a plea was found 
for punishing the robbed husband for the sins of the wife- 
robber. From this they easily passed to other events — to 
the bickerings of judge and ju.stices over the judicial rob- 
bery, to the squabbles between Gov. Beekman here and 
D’Hinnoyossa at New Castle, to the confession of the 
latter that he had no time to direct a certain official epistle 
“ without breaking in upon his laziness” — and they were 
thus losing themseh-es in the multiplying memories of the 
past when they were suddenly recalled to the clamorous 
present by the youthful summons — 

” Uncle Gabe, tell us about the battle — show us where 
the Dutch had their cannon, and — ” 


364 Ebb a Borjeson. 

‘ ‘ O yes, show us how the muscovy duck strutted and 
banty-cock crowed.” 

“Vhy, bless der schildren, to be sure: buried in der 
old past ve forgot der young present. Now ve goes,” — 
and the jolly man strode forth to entertain tHe young folks'. 
He pointed to a spot across the Christiana creek where 
the Dutch had planted their gabions in the opposite marsh. 
” Und now,” he continued, starting up the slope, ” gome 
higher; yonder at der mouf ov Brandywine dey anchored 
some of dere ships; und yonder dey fixed von battery, und 
here to der right anoder — ’ ’ 

And so they continued up the hill, the several places 
occupied by the besieging cannon were shown, from the 
nearest battery covering the works to the furthest on Tim- 
ber or Yandevere's Island. 

” But here,” continued Uncle Gabe, as he advanced to 
a sort of paved space on the summit of the hill, ” here on 
der parool-plaetz vas der dire battle really fought.” 

“How?” enquired Rupert, “did the garrison then 
make a sally upon the besiegers ?’ ’ 

“Yaw, a daily sally; a fierce sally ov gory fuss und 
fury. Dis vas der post-rampart — der parade ground: und 
here der two commanders paraded demselves efer}^ day; 
here der great blassegust Stuyvesant, dot Muscovy-Duck- 
in-Schief, und der bristling game-cock Risingh, met in 
daily combat ov bloody vords und flying feaders; here 
dey blustered und argued und coaxed und tricked mit 
each odere; here Stuyvesant threatened to blow der 
Swedes into boggy atoms und bury ’em insvampy oblifion, 
und here der frisky crower Risingh flapped his Svede 
vings, defied der whole armed horde of duck-vaddling 
Dutch und svore he would stand in der last ditch und 
shpill der last tdrop ov Svedish blood before he would sur- 
render. Und then dey — ” 

“Yes, Uncle Gabe,” interposed more than one youthful 
voice, “ but show us how it was: you strut like the big 
duck and crow like the loud rooster.” 

“ O schildren, yer Onkel Cabe get yust too olt for zuch 
tings.” 

“No, no! O do, do! Now please show us. Uncle 
Gabe.” 

“Yell den, now you be der game-cock und hens und 
young schickens, und I be der muscovy duck leading his 
flock.” 

And then he went through the oft-acted part, and after 
giving them an imitation of the to-and-fro parade and the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


365 


circular wing-scraping and crow of defiance as seen in an 
impending battle of cocks, the comical Dutchman, with 
huge inhalation, swelled himself into amplitudinous dis- 
play, stalked with a limping sweep to imitate the peculiar 
stride of Stuyvesant with his wooden leg, and quacked 
forth his lusty taunt of battle, all to the shouting delight 
of the children. 

‘ ‘ Und den one leader vould retreat to der field-quarters 
of de General, und de odere retire mitin der fort, und den 
dey blazed avay und vakened der sleepin’ hills und 
frightened all der vomen, dogs und geese mit firing over 
each Oder’s heads, und den next day goom again here und 
renew dere vordy strife und vage dere fearful war of 
paper pellets, und so dey kept it up da}^ after day, firing, 
bantering und treating, und der less Risingh could gain by 
fire und force, der bolder he vas mit tongue und pen; de 
more he despaired ov powder und ball, der more he relied 
upon pugnacity und blow-brains, und as he veakened as a 
defender he strengthened as a diplomatist, trying all der 
vhile to do as solicitor vhat he failed in as soldier; und so, 
finding he could do better by finessing dan fighting, he 
gained such confidence in his power ov negotiating dot 
after vhile he send a messenger to Stuyvesant, for vhat, 
ye tinks, eh ?” 

“ To ask another truce, perchance, or for terms of capit- 
ulation ?” 

“Not a bit ov it; he send a flag-bearer to Stuyve- 
sant mit a big-sealed document asking vhat vere his 
intentions ! und for vhat purpose der Dutch goome 
mit big ships und armed men to der territories ov der 
Svedes.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! capital !’’ burst forth Rupert; “ the inno- 
cent Risingh ! When a lone traveller is assailed by an 
armed giant with a demand for money or life the victim 
naturally wants to know the intentions of his assailant ! 
His ignorance is then distressing, but for very particular 
reasons he is usually content to forego enlightment. Well, 
what was Stuyvesant’s reply ?’’ 

“He demanded a zurrender mitin twenty-four hours. 

“And Risingh?’’ 

“ Asked for time to consider und solicited anoder inter- 
view here on der parool-plaetz. 

“ And what then ?’’ queried Rupert. 

“It vas granted.’’ 

“ The magnanimous Stuyvesant ! most tenderly patient 
of besiegers ! Well, what then 


366 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Veil, next day, dey met here again und Risingh en- 
tered into a long zvntt0n argument to proof a true Svedish 
right und title to all der vest side territory, und he spend 
long time shtill contending, entreating und protesting, to 
which Stuyvesant patiently listened und den granted 
anoder days grace!! Und den Risingh returned mit 
valiant mien to der fort, vowing his purpose to shpill dot 
last tdrop ov blood! But at last he shtop der farce und send 
flag ov truce broposing surrender; und next day der 
capitulation vas done und signed on dis shpot on der 15-25 
September 1655. Und so, after a two veeks’ siege by 
powder and paper und power ov pen, mit dire mighty 
clashings ov mouf-armed men, a force ov more as six hun- 
tdred troops took a defenceless old fort mit a garrison ov 
thirty sick men ; took it mitout a dtrop ov human blood 
und mit only loss ov goat, hog und hen.’’ 

“ Told,’’ said Rupert Fairfield, “ with the metrical force 
and precision of a veritable eye-witness. But do you 
mean to say you have stated the actual numbers of the re- 
spective forces ? If old Risingh actually with his handful 
of invalids kept off so superior a force for a whole fort- 
night, he deserves not a little credit for his word}^ parley- 
ings whatever his fighting capacity. 

“ Efen so, Rupe; vhy methinks ’twas e’en a greater ting 
dan vould haf been dot feat ov Ben Jonson’s braggart 
Bobadill, who probosed mit his twenty fighting experts to 
kill twenty foes a day und so finish off forty tousand 
enemies in two huntdred days !” 

“ ’Twas less bloody at all events,’’ said Rupert, “and 
considering the merciful propensities of our good Uncle 
Gabe I should’ nt wonder if he had had a hand in influenc- 
ing so peaceful a conquest.” 

“ Vheder or no, metinks conqueror and conquered 
alike von so little gainful renown dot ’tvere better, 
like dot same Bobadill, ‘ to love a cleanly and 
quiet privacy above all the tumult and roar of for- 
tune.’ ’’ 

“Good!” exclaimed Rupert aside to Ebba, “he has 
opened a quoting vein; it flows from an exhaustless foun- 
tain of instructive learning and bubbling humor; we’ll try 
to keep him at it.’’ 

But this was more easily said than done; for, obeying 
the propensity of modest merit to shrink back when 
sought to be made an exhibition of. Uncle Gabe continued 
to shake his head at Rupert’s repeated efforts to draw him 
out, when suddenly thinking of the double expedient of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 367 

using Ebba’s influence and of embodying it himself in a 
quotation, the young man quickly burst forth: 

“ See here, Old Perversity ! ‘ you are now sailed into the 
North of my lady’s opinion, where you will hang like an 
icicle on a Dutchman’s beard, unless you redeem it by 
some laudable attempt.’ There ! how like you that thrust 
from a Twelfth lance ?” 

“ ’Tis not my first oxperience ov a saucy fellow hanging 
bofh hot und colt tings about a Dutchman’s beard; metinks 
upon occasion tou can’st curse as hotly und snarl as coldly 
as pe good for digestion; und like Oliver Cob in 
'Every maji in his Humor, ^ I might e’en say ‘O I haf a 
guest; he teaches me; he doth swear the ligiblest of any 
man christened.’ ” 

“ As close a shot,” exclaimed Rupert, “ from the bat- 
ter}" of rare Ben Jonson. Well, I thought I could draw 
his fire. But let’s on; it grows hot here.” And in truth 
the climbing sun was beginning to pour his heated rays on 
the exposed crest of the hill. A near view northward em- 
braced the cluster of noble walnut trees to which Ebba so 
often resorted. Their wide-speading limbs threw a grate- 
ful shade over the smooth sward, and as the party moved 
on they instinctively sought the grove’s cooling retreat. 
The late conversation had drawn attention to books; and 
as Rupert had enjoyed a brief period of quiet intercourse 
with Ebba, he felt a youthful itching to ruffle the latent 
calm of her mood. So somewhat as one is tempted to test 
the mettle of a spirited steed, he expressed views which he 
thought most likely to provoke opposition. As before 
intimated Rupert Fairfield had received an education far 
in advance of even the more enlightened colonists of that 
early day; and it was chiefly his knowledge of books and 
taste for reading that had assured his intimacy with 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach. 

“ How refreshing is the lusty glow and force,” he said, 
in pursuit of his purpose, “of these honest old English 
dramatists, after the ever measured beat and lofty monot- 
ony of this modern Milton we now hear so much of. It 
restores one to the chivalrous impulses of the gay Cavaliers 
from the pretentious whinings of the hypocritical Round- 
heads.” 

“Say, rather, it lowers the sense from the sustained 
tone of a noble purpose to the temper of mere idle fancy 
and fleshly self-seeking. Those Elizabethan writers were 
men of fresh true impulses and great poetic genius, but 
they were largely the impulses and genius of gifted, noble. 


368 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


headstrong children. The age had not reached the maturer 
era which recognized the dignity of man or gave much 
heed to his rights. Milton was the great champion of the 
human conscience and ever maintained the right of private 
judgment as against the authority of despotic dogma. The 
poet who devotes his great gifts to high principle is as far 
above the mere delvers in imagery or singers of passion 
as steadfast heroism is superior to paraded courage or 
selfish pursuits.” 

” I doubt the high principle as his highest motive; but I 
think, ne’ertheless, his aim was higher than his execution. 
The high quality of the work more than the loftiness of 
aim determines the poet’s rank.” 

” Both are essential, and by both I think will Milton win 
and deserve the bright crown of immortality. Were he 
less uniforml}^ elevated we would more feel his mountain- 
ous flights; and ’tis in his exaltation we miss the flavor of 
the playfully human strain in his poetic genius.” 

” Possibly; but after all ’tis much a matter of taste; and 
to me there ever seemed a stilted march and strained 
effect in Milton which is prone to grow wearisome, e’en in 
his most elegant measures. ’Tis not thus with even the 
lesser poets of Elizabeth’s time; but in the whole galaxy of 
that glorious reign there is such a hearty savor of honest 
mother nature coupled with such knightly fervor of richest 
conception, that to read them after laboring with any of 
the later poets is like emerging from a night of artificial 
brightness into the fresh splendor of wholesome daylight.” 

“The comparison is apt and striking if not wholly fair,” 
said Ebba, with a look of glowing interest; ” nor, if less 
than just to Milton do I think it scarce over-praise of his 
Elizabethan predecessors. But was not the difference 
mainly the necessary difference between the two periods ? 
The reign of Queen Bess was the fresh young manhood of 
English literature; later it became sobered with the inevi- 
table struggles and responsibilities of maturer years.” 

” Most happily stated. Miss Borjeson, and perchance as 
full of truth as of force. But when you spoke of the rudely 
rich but lower aims of the old dramatists, did you mean 
this of Shakspere?” 

” O !” replied Ebba, in a burst of girlish enthusiasm, 
“that great name stands outside of all classification or meas- 
urement. Shakspere belongs to all time; he is the poet of 
all nations and needs; he is the magic searcher of hearts 
and a wonder-worker as to all the emotions, ordeals and 
enigmas of human experience !” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


369 


“ Bravo ! Here then we meet on common ground;” and 
his voice softened as with a half yearning glance at Bbba 
he added, ” on friendly ground may I not trust?” Silence 
followed, and he continued, “With what startling keen- 
ness of scrutiny does not Shakspere compel the uncover- 
ing of our hearts whether we will or no ? And although 
we all may have, as he says, ‘ a kind of alacrity in sink- 
ing, ’ none may depict as he the lifting solace of the great 
passion that enables the lowliest to say : 

‘ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, 

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’ ” 

The furtive color that flashed into Ebba’sface took shel- 
ter with the timely diversion of Uncle Gabe, who at that 
moment reached the grove, puffing from a race with 
the children. 

” Here ve be !” he said, taking off his hat and wiping 
his broad reddened cheeks, ” und dis shpot is old frientov 
mine, for shust here vas mein battery at dot gory old siege 
of Stuyvesant: und now ve all dakes sometings,” he con- 
tinued, as he uncorked some bottles of home-brewed drink, 
“but body o’ me ! vhat shlops be dis ale und zuch; mit- 
out der medlar brandy ov old Jacquett von can only say 
here vhat Beaumont wrote to Ben Jonson: 

— ‘In dis varm shine 

I lie und dream ov your full Mermaid vine. 

Oh ve haf vater mixed mit claret lees, 

Drink apt to bring in drier heresies 

Than beer, goot only for der sonnet’s strain, 

Mit fustian metaphors to stuff der brain.’ ” 

“ Capital !” exclaimed Rupert, “ Prithee go on; O good 
friend, give us more.” But, declaring he had forgotten 
much, the genial old fellow, first pledging Bbba in a 
Swedish “ Skal Broken !” proposed the health of all; after 
which he recited the concluding lines: 

“ ‘ Protest it will my greatest comfort be 
To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee 
Ben, when these scenes are perfect we’ll taste wine; 

I’ll drink to thy Muse’s health, thou shalt quaff mine.’ ” 

Then they had songs and tales and legends of the olden 
days; and in such wise, with lounging, slumber and varied 
merry-making, they passed the time till the hour came for 
wending their way homeward. 


24 


370 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


CHAPTER Eli. 

Some of the doings narrated in the last chapter were ob- 
served one not an actor in them. The movements of 
two of the little party as they walked from the ‘ ‘ parool- 
plaetz” on the hill- top to the walnut grove rearward, were 
indeed watched by an unseen witness from so near a point 
that some of their conversation was overheard by him. 
Nicodemus Knight had for some days been keeping jealous 
watch for the expected arrival of Rupert Fairfield in the 
neighborhood; so on one of his periodical rounds of ob- 
servation he discovered the party gathered on the hill, and 
saw Ebba and Rupert walk away together. 

Mr. Knight, whatever else might be said of him, had 
little of the sneak in his nature. With dullness of com- 
prehension he had an Englishmen’s pride in, and propen- 
sity for, a certain clumvSy openness of procedure. But he 
was very jealous of the young Virginian, by whom he had 
already been once balked, and his ill-fortune had taught 
him wariness. By a strange new impulse now upon the 
approach of his rival in company with Ebba, he suddenly 
concealed himself behind a brushy copse close to the path- 
way, and as the young couple passed he plainly heard 
their voices. He was near enough to discover that they 
were talking of books and their authors. With all his 
jealousy he could not but admire the glib and easy style of 
their intercourse. His own knowledge of books was limi- 
ted chiefly to a musty treatise on theology; to another on 
rules for correct behavior, with the family Bible, the book 
of Common Prayer and ceremonials of the English 
Church. In. common with most colonists of English an- 
cestry and traditions he had command of the hackneyed 
injunctions and copy-book sentiments which of old ap- 
palled timid beginners in the art of penmanship; and he 
was specially versed in the literature of ‘ ‘ elegant ex- 
tracts” and the stately phraseology that had begun to 
mark English public speech which had already imparted 
an oratorical swing to his own conversation. But much as 
he admired these lofty models he had begun to suspect 
that they possibly failed him a little in the compact celer- 
ity he needed in emergencies. As he listened to the talk 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


371 


of the slowly passing couple a new light seemed to burst 
upon him. True, they seemed wanting in swelling 
grandeur of style, but was there not a substance he had 
not suspected? — a substance derived from some knowledge 
and sympathy from which he was shut out? It was a sad- 
dening and solemn moment for him; for it was perhaps the 
first time that Nicodemus Knight had ever seriously ques- 
tioned his own infallibility. 

Could it be, then, that with all the excellencies of his 
English ancestry and ideas — with all his solid yeoman 
stock and substance brought and nurtured from purest 
English models, with purest English notions — could it 
really be that he, Nicodemus Knight, the model farmer 
and rich English proprietor who had condescended to live 
among the mongrel people of this heathen land — could it 
be that a man of such excelling worth had yet something 
to learn of lesser people ; that he had failed to show 
such people his crushing importance and had not even 
succeeded in getting a wife among them all because of 
some actual defect in himself? Incredible as it seemed 
he was half disposed to think it not wholly impossible. 
Nor was he the man, important as he was, to be above 
thinking of some means of improvement when once con- 
vinced that improvement could be necessary. 

To go so far as to entertain a serious doubt of himself or 
his ideas, was a vast step for Nicodemus Knight. After 
that nothing seemed far beyond the dull ponderosity of his 
brain ; and now that he had briefly overheard the ready 
and earnest talk between Ebba and Rupert upon what 
seemed learned themes, he was almost prepared to ac- 
knowledge that he might at least learn something regard- 
ing the successful courtship of a bright and educated young 
Avoman. Although the young couple had soon passed 
beyond hearing he kept them carefully in view, and as he 
continued to observe their prolonged conversation as well 
as unconstrained grace of manners, he experienced an odd 
mixture of admiration, envy and jealousy. But as he 
tried the solace of believing he was undergoing an educa- 
tional process as well, his experience was possibly more 
profitable or at least less maddening than that of most 
jealous lovers. The more he revolved the matter in his 
mind and revolved his eyes in the direction of his rival, the 
more he was convinced of the necessity of some change, 
and the more the conviction cudgelled him to a conclu- 
sion. 

Thus impelled, that conclusion was speedily reached. 


372 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


He resolved to become a reader of books. He would ac- 
quire information ; and although he could not expect and 
had hardly the wish to become a bookish or learned man, 
which would illy accord with his importance as the high- 
est and hardest-headed husbandman of the colony, yet he 
would acquire enough to be able to talk learnedly of such 
things, like bookish people. He had few books of his 
own and they were a scarce and costly article in the col- 
ony : but in this difficulty he readily bethought him of his 
ever obliging friend, Gabriel Van Onkelbach, who was be- 
lieved in the settlement to be the owner of a limitless 
storehouse of volumes unreadable, as well as a personal 
repository of curious learning. He resolved to take the 
first opportunity of consulting his Dutch friend and enlist- 
ing his kindly aid in the matter. 

Intent upon his new purpose he evinced the usual zeal 
of new devotees. Keeping himself in concealment until 
the party departed toward home, he followed on unseen, 
hoping that the coveted opportunity to speak with Uncle 
Gabe might speedily present itself. But Gabriel and Ru- 
pert, having separated from the women and children at the 
garden gate of dame Signild, turned and went to the cot- 
tage of old mother Thekla, before embarking for their 
island. There they lingered so long that Nicodemus, still 
awaiting his opportunity, felt it wise to defer his purpose, 
and so went reluctantly homeward. But promptly on the 
following morning he was on hand in hope of catching the 
busy islander on one of his early visits to the mainland. 
And meanwhile, a rather unwonted curiosity impelled him 
to call upon mother Thekla, from whose loquacity he 
might learn something as to the purpose of the prior day’s 
call from the two men he had watched. 

There was not an earlier riser in the settlement than old 
dame Thekla. Whether it was the extra time necessary 
to look into her neighbors’ as well as her own affairs, or 
whether her general obliquities of vision and movement 
demanded more time for the same duties, it is certain that 
her cottage was earliest astir in the mornings, while not 
unfrequently the latest candle at night was seen dimly 
twinkling from her lone window. Nicodemus Knight was 
therefore sure to find the old woman about; and he more- 
over found her in an unusually chatty and cheerful mood. 

“ Beshrew me now!” she said, “and the foul fiend 
catch me an this be not neighbor Nicodemus. Goodman 
Knight e’er stirs with the lark at dawn, I trow; and his 
omen good, methinks, whether on scent of maiden true or 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


373 


trudging after wandering cow; come in, friend Nic, and 
how is’t wi’ thee now?” 

“Well; good dame, well enough; but ’twould be an 
early bird should catch 3^e napping ! And ’tis all one 
to ye now, whether airl}^ or late to bed — ye were ever the 
first to rise. For the matter o’ that, though, we’re neither 
on us sluggards: but bless ye, ma’am, what signifieth 
whether we be late or airly in these fallen days; for don’t 
the sluggards and spendthrifts git the better on us 
now, whether we make or whether we break?” 

” Marry ! Sir Knight !” exclaimed the old dame with a 
snappish relish of her play upon the word: for with 
the myster^^ of her combined character as sorceress 
and shrew she indulged a fondness for jingling rhymes and 
quibbling words, and moreover upon occasion could be 
something of a flatterer. ‘ ‘ Spake ye of making or break- 
ing?’’ she continued, “ Body o’ me ! and what is thrift if 
be not thrifty, and what is envy if ye be not the envy 
of all the lads, as yer the prize of all the maids in 
these parts? Whether the times be evil or good what 
signifies it to the lordliest yeoman in the river realms?” 

“ But with all the solid merits of Nicodemus Knight — 
and Nicodemus Knight is not the man to gainsay ’em — he 
hath not the glibness of the gay gallant and hath not yet 
won wife to bed and board.” 

‘ ‘ The more shame for the maids ! to leave substance 
and catch at shadows ! Feed a fool with pap, quotha? 
Why man ! risk not all th^^ wares ’pon a single chance. 
Have more eggs on the spit: there be as good fish 
in the sea as e’er were caught.” 

” But they won’t be caught if they like not the bait, and 
I’ve about concluded that Nicodemus Knight must 
hide the substance of his hook with the shine of his bait 
ere he shall ketch the giddy creeturs. ’Tain’t enough 
to be wealthy and wise: to be a good angler the rod must 
be handled wi’ cunning wit and swung at the wag of 
a tuneful tongue. Without these Nicodemus Knight is 
made little of; with ’em dame Thekla is known to high and 
low. She is sought from fur and nigh: she was vi.sited but 
yestere’en by the learned and the polite; yea, she was — ” 

The gathering swell of his sentences was cut short by 
an odd exclamation of gratified surprise from his listener. 
It was her turn to feel flattered, and the grim crookedness 
of the old hag’s wrinkled visage straightened for a 
moment with a semblance of warning heart-glow as 
she launched into a garrulous recital of the visit paid her 


374 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


by Gabriel Van Onkelbach and Rupert Fairfield, telling- 
with growing gusto how the high-bred Virginian had 
graciously greeted her with one of his grand ‘ ‘ quality 
bows,” and bending low had pressed his dainty lips 
on her shrivelled old hand; how he had addressed her 
continually with high respect, and how she was sure such 
a fine gentleman would’ nt think of marrying any of these 
colony girls hereabouts; how he might like to flirt and 
sport with “ sich homespuns,” but would ne’er dare 
to take one of ’em as a wife back home to his grand folks 
in Virginia, ” not one of ’em — not even this fine-spun new- 
comer, dame Signild’s clean-cut niece: for I — ” 

” How say ye ?” burst in her visitor, scenting an unex- 
pected chance of averting danger, ” do ye mean to — ” 

” I mean to say,” — continued the old hag, wriggling her 
bent person with a squint and hiss of defiant prophecy, ” I 
mean to say that old dameThekla may not know the highs 
nor the lows; that she don’t claim to be a beauty nor a 
seraph, though there be them both homelier and lower ; I 
mean to, say that dame Thekla may not know the inns and 
outs o’ high life, nor the highways or by-ways o’ low life; 
not yet, mayhap, what’s what in any sort o’ life; 
but hark ye, dame Thekla’ s no fool, or she’ll be hanged 
else ! and dame Thekla now tells ye that young Rupert 
Fairfield comes o’ stock, comes o’ persons o’ that quality 
as will none of any alliance but wi’ thorough-breds.” 

” And Nicodemus Knight,” said the keen listener, 
eagerly catching at this new hope, is not the man to say 
they ain’t in the right on it; not as I thinks as there kin be 
any raal genooine persons o’ quality on this side o’ the big- 
water; not as I thinks these ’ere Virginia up-starts and 
would-be’s amounts to anything in particelar along side o’ 
the British high-bloods; not by no means ! — fur frum it ! — 
fur by what I kin hear they come in the fubt place only 
frum the low out-cavSts o’ the home stock; only frum the 
worthless wagabonds and worser outlaws as wus shipped 
away to be got rid of — but at the same time ’ tain ’ t no mor e ’ n 
right that kith and kin should be o’ the same mind — ’tain’t 
no more’ll right that sich folks should marry amongst their- 
selves — it’s accordin’ to the everlastin’ fitness o’ things that 
birds of a feather should flock together — that shiny 
feathers and polished leathers should — ” 

His rising oratory was suddenly checked by the chance 
sight of Gabriel Van Onkelbach en route shoreward from 
his island. He was glad to see,. too, that he was alone; for 
the hospitable islander, leaving his guest to indulge his 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


375 


fondness for late slumbers, had hurried off to attend to 
some early errands among his mainland neighbors. Taking 
hasty leave, Mr. Knight rushed from the cabin, leaving its 
aged mistress with arms akimbo, somewhat stunned by the 
abruptness of the movement, but more engrossed with the 
cunning divination of the secret meaning of the early call, 
the unwonted condescension and the hasty departure of 
her guest. 

Nicodemus Knight deemed himself in luck. He felt so 
pleased at the old dame’s assurances as to the non-threaten- 
ing character of his rival’s matrimonial intentions, that he 
was in quite a forgiving frame of mind; and now here was 
the Dutchman he sought all alone to further favor his de- 
sign. Yes, he thought himself fortunate; and stalking for- 
ward with a touch of buoyancy added to the heavy stateliness 
of his customar}^ gait, he hailed the skipper as he neared the 
shore, and directly launched into an elaborate statement of 
his desires. 

“ Vhy, zertainly,” exclanied Uncle Gabe, impatient to 
give assurance of his wish to oblige, “ berfectly velcome 
to any or all books vhat I haf. ’ ’ 

“I shall be very much obleeged to you; and 
Nicodemus Knight is not the man to forget a favor, 
sir.” 

“ O, shpeak not ov favors, but shust yump now aboard 
und I dakes ye right ofer und 5'e zelects vhat books ye 
vant. ’ ’ 

“ Very much obleeged, I’m sure,” repeated the other, 
shaking his head and lifting his protesting hands, “but 
’tain’t no use for me to go; the books be all alike to me, 
and if you’d be so kind and obleegin’ I’d like ye to choose 
the books for me.” 

“Yaw, mein frien’, but I knows noting ov your taste; 
noting vhat you vould like or vhat might suit mit you, 
eh?” 

” Oh, it don’t make no difference ; one is jist as good as 
another to me. I ain’t never been much on readin’ for 
I’ve had too much on hand of more impor — ah ! please now, 
you make the selection for me; jist git some books as sort 
o’ read perlite and learned, with long, fine words like 
grand folks speak, only I don’t want none o’ them poetry- 
books, they be so scandalous onlikclyE 

Uncle Gabe’s merriment was almost too much for his 
instinctive politeness, but his embarrassment was quickly 
relieved. 

“ But this ain’t all I want of you,” resumed Mr. Knight. 


376 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


‘ ‘ No ? ah vhat more I can do ? shust command mid I serve 
shust so veil as I may.” 

“What I want,” resumed the other, drawing a full 
breath as if to fortify himself for a damaging confession, 
“is — is — instruction ! That’s jist it. Ye may think it 
strange enough, but Nicodemus Knight, with all he is and 
all he has got, wants somethin’ yit — actooally needs in 
some pints to be instructed !” 

The speaker paused with the exhaustive admission, and 
his companion, not knowing what to say in so great an 
emergency, tried to blankly stare several ways at once. 

“Now, when Nicodemus Knight,” resumed that pon- 
derous confessor, “gits these books o’ yourn, he’ll jist look 
’em through and read a bit here and there to find out what 
they treats on; but bless ye, he’ll never read ’em through. 
If he did he’d know less at the end than at the beginnin’. 
To read books is agin natur — leastways agin Nic Knight’s 
natur, and in these poetry-books ain’t neither natur nor 
human natur. Nicodemus Knight war’nt made for books 
and books war’nt made for Nicodemus Knight; and he’s 
got too sot in his ways to be much changed this way or 
t’other; and so I’d thank to instruct me how to talk 
about the books without readin’ ’em much; and jist ye 
write out the proper things to be said and where to say 
’em; and likewise teach me the knowin’ and eas}^ ways o’ 
speakin’ o’ books as though I knowed all about ’em, so 
that a body may seem lamed and perlite, whether he be or 
no, among grand folks.” 

Uncle Gabe was in a quaking state of suppressed merri- 
ment as with kindly averted looks he promised to do what 
he could for his friend’s instruction; with which promise 
the two men went their several ways. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

Following the sudden departure of Nicodemus Knight 
there was soon an unwonted stir in the cabin of dame 
Thekla. With the failing sight and strength of the old 
woman there was a proportionate gain in her thirst for 
gossip; so that her powers were now severely taxed by the 
double .duty of performing her little tasks at home and 
spreading abroad the news of Rupert Fairfield’s return. 
For of such precious news she had believed she was the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 377 

sole possessor on the mainland until she learned otherwise 
from Mr. Knight. 

Although this was a little set-back she clung the more 
eagerly to the comforting notion that she was the only 
person in the settlement who had yet been honored with a 
simultaneous call from the young visitor and his Dutch host. 
That call had flustered her into some unrest, and now the 
visit of Nicodemus Knight, besides delaying her work, 
had completed her fussy disquiet. With every lapsing 
moment she grew the more eager to be off upon her 
neighborly duties; and the matter was the more urgent be- 
cause of the closely impending Sabbath. For no one 
knew better than the old crone how quickly the freshness 
of her treasured wares would stale after the next Sun- 
day’s assemblage at Crane-hook church. 

The rising sun was just peeping over the New Jersey 
woods as dame Thekla left her cabin. Making now as al- 
ways her first call upon dame Signild, the old hag hobbled 
on with labored acceleration in pursuit of her mission. 
Nor had she over-rated her own or her neighbor’s capacity 
alike to circulate news and nurse its resultant talk. For 
when Sunday came their rivaling industry was manifest in 
the increased number and busier tattle of the assembling 
congregation, while Rupert Fairfield was himself promptly 
on hand in bodil}^ confirmation of his reported return to the 
neighborhood. 

Thus equipped, the tongue of gossip was occupied 
hardly more with the past than the future flirtations of the 
young Virginian. For that some sort of an adventure with 
the other sex was soon to mark his career was taken for 
granted. The subject was too engrossing to share atten- 
tion with ordinary topics, and even the increasing wolves 
and decreasing beavers, with the croaking dissertations of 
old Job Blinckenheim gave way to a theme fraught with 
personal zest thus freshly provided. 

Ebba for the first time was absent from church. For 
some days she had experienced premonitory symptoms of 
the fever and ague then universally prevalent among the 
dwellers about the river flats ; and so heeded her aunt’s 
timely advice to remain at home. In this she may have 
thought of other than the physical gain of avoiding the 
compulsory over-hearing of offensive personal allusions. 
For it was scarcely possible that her own name should not 
be coupled with that of Rupert Fairfield, since — as she 
could not help hearing — she was deemed the only young 


378 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


lady in the colony of sufficient elegance or position to en- 
list his courting ambition. 

But soon another person shared the attention of the 
waiting congregation : for Nicodemus Knight presently 
stalked forward looking his lusty scorn of Rupert Fair- 
field and all other rivals in fields conjugal or pastoral. 
With his stolid self-confidence he had already counted 
upon the advantages to be derived from the promised as- 
sistance of Uncle Gabe in glibly mastering the “ flatterin*^ 
discourse ” he so much admired. Elated with anticipated 
victory he had arrayed himself in all those grandfatherly 
trappings and discarded fashions which were reserved for 
great occasions ; and his appearance at once caused a 
buzzing recital of the oft-told tale of his defeat in former 
courtship rivalry with Rupert Fairfield. 

Unmindful of the notice he attracted, which he neither 
courted nor shunned, the lordly yoeman continued to scan 
the observing groups as if in search of some one he ex- 
pected to find. At length, seeing dame Signild and party 
coming from the river landing, he marched off to meet 
them, only to turn aside with a sudden grunt and frown of 
disappointment when he found that a certain 3^oung lady 
was not among the approaching group. With similar im- 
pulses but a subtler scrutiny Rupert Fairfield had made 
the same discovery of Ebba’s absence, while with tardier 
movement he ignorantly followed in the yeoman’s foot- 
steps. 

Meanwhile the person seached for by the two men was 
languishing at home with threatening fever and a raging 
headache. Lars had been left to care for his cousin, 
whose symptoms had much developed since the others had 
gone to church ; and the two had not long been left alone 
before the anxious lad heard a knock at the outward door. 
Hastening to respond he found the doorway shadowed by 
the tall figure of Nicodemus Knight. 

“ Good mornin’ !” exclaimed the visitor in a lofty swell 
of patronizing salutation. “I — aw — my lad, ’ tain’ t nothin’ 
in perticelar I cum for, but I thought I’d jist drap in this, 
fine day to arsk how ye all be,” — with which introductory 
he deliberately seated himself, and throwing one leg over 
the other cleared his throat for extended remarks. ” Ye 
be all well I make bold to presume; and if we kin keep the 
cut-worms off the tobaccer and Injin corn ears well, 
these craps’ll be right smart; and — and perwiden, now,, 
things be — ” 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


379 


But Lars, whose fidgeting had grown from the first, 
exhibited signs that his self-control was not to be relied 
upon. 

“ Now, Lars, I would’nt be no more oneasy-like than I 
could help if I was you; and now here, my boy,” he con- 
tinued, drawing his chair nearer insinuatingly, “if — if ye’d 
jist say how and whar be — be Mamsell Bor — ’’ 

“ Oh, if its cousin Ebba ye’re after,’’ burst in the im- 
patient Lars with a boy’s sudden insight, “she’s sick! — 
sick abed and can’t see nobody — nobody at all.” 

Mr. Knight’s arms went up in mingled surprise and un- 
affected sympathy; and rising, with some mutterings of 
apology, he stood a moment in a hesitating attitude. In 
his stupid innocence he was not staggered with polite 
words of dismissal, for none had been given; he was select- 
ing from the sounding phrases he had been learning the 
proper terms in which to send Ebba his parting condol- 
ences. 

“Lars,” he resumed, “tell the lady how sorry I be; 
jist persent her with my most elongated regrets and assure 
her o’ my exentooated compliments and mighty good 
wishes: and — and now, my good lad, if there be any little 
delicacies — if the matter o’ a big fresh punkin’ or a likely 
bull calf — if a mess of green cowcumbers or red crabs — if 
Nicodemus Knight from his burstin’ stores can send — ” 

But Lars in his growing eagerness to terminate the inter- 
view had disappeared, and the visitor, with a confused 
sense of sudden desertion, realized that he was alone, and 
slowly left the house. He had gone but a short distance 
when he saw Rupert Fairfield moving with seeming cau- 
tion from another direction to the house he had just left. 
With a pang of jealousy he seated himself behind a con- 
cealing bush to watch his rival’s fortune. 

Rupert Fairfield was well versed in society’s elegant 
duplicities, and being on his guard against them, he re- 
ceived Lars’ excuses for Ebba’s non-appearance with per- 
sistent suspicion. Indignation flushed the boy’s honest 
face as he hotly queried: 

“ Think ye I lie, then ? I tell ye she’s too ill to be dis- 
turbed by anybody.” 

“ But did you tell her who it was asking to see her?’.’ 

“It matters not who asks to; one’ll disturb her as 
much as another; leastwise she’ll be none the better for 
seein’ you.” 

“Young impertinence ! Go this minute and tell Miss 
Borjeson that Rupert Fairfield desires to speak with her.” 


380 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


“That won’t I then; nor would at the bid o’ your bet- 
ters — much less at your bidden.’’ 

“Impudent brat!’’ exclaimed Rupert, with a sudden 
lift of a threatening hand as the hot blood mounted to his 
face; “ I’ll teach you better than — ’’ 

The boy planted himself for defence; but the other with 
a quick counter impulse desisted, and had recourse to 
cajolery; but all the same he failed in his purpose to see 
Ebba, for her young protector was being wonderously 
quickened in his natural sagacity. If he could not tell 
just how it came, the lad proudly felt how much the sense 
of defending the defenceless and comforting the sick had 
suddenly developed his manhood. It was with more so- 
bering devotion that the poor fellow later discovered a more 
dangerous tenderness toward his Swedish cousin. 

Elated with his second repulse of the enemy, Lars re- 
tired to his defended treasure with new consecration to her 
cause. He was quite familiar with all the usual remedies 
for malarial afflictions, and by their prompt application the 
patient was duly thrown into a profuse perspiration and her 
threatened fever so averted. Before the return of the 
church-goers Ebba was so far recovered that she yielded 
to a strong temptation to venture out of doors to greet her 
pets. The first she met was old Shaggy asleep at the door 
step. Sleep was in truth the life mission of this faithful 
dog. He had been recommended on the scientific princi- 
ple that as in the Divine Economy all creatures are crea- 
ted for some use, and as he had been found upon trial to be 
utterly useless for other purposes he must necessarily be 
suited to the vague duties of a gerieral house-dog; of 
which the particular fulfillment seemed here to be blissful 
sleep. His lesser merits were purely negative; or what- 
ever their symmetrical equipoise there was but one thing 
that could disturb his crowning laziness. This was his joy 
when Ebba stroked his head and ran her fingers through 
his muddled hair. Feeling this, the sleepy brute actually 
evinced something resembling energy. 

But on this occasion even such cause failed of its effect; 
and so the dog’s mistress passed on to see her tame fawn. 
On account of its nimble grace and beauty she had. named 
it Gazelle, contracted to the more familiar “Zelle.’’ The 
pet bounded forward to meet her; but by this time the dog 
had awakened enough to scent the situation; and following 
on with unwonted activit3^ thrust his head with a threaten- 
ing growl between his mistress arms extended to embrace 
the fawn. But the indulged pet valued its privileges too 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


38 


much to be easily driven away. With a flash of its beau- 
tiful eye the spirited creature tossed its defiant head and 
planted its fore feet in the fighting attitude peculiar to its 
race. With the fawn thus bantering in high mettled tre- 
mor and the growing fierceness of the dog’s answering me- 
nace, it was becoming a little critical for the mistress of 
the tournament, when Lars hurried to her rescue. 

From this bellicose prospect Ebba turned to an enter- 
tainment more suited to her languid mood. She watched 
a company of firmly purposed ducks waddling in single- 
file procession, down the slope to meet the incoming tide ; 
she gazed at a marvelously strutting turkey-gobbler belch- 
ing his importance and spreading his gaudy colors with all 
the impeding pomposity of a Dutch burgomaster in his 
insignia ; and in more listless mood she observed a com- 
pany of confiding hens constantly victimized by a gay de- 
ceiver of a rooster, who would lure them by vociferously 
clucking, to some discovered delicacy which, as they were 
about to seize, he would himself devour with an offer of 
substituted gallantry, and who would hasten to meet a 
cackling egg-layer with the strut of a gorgeous imposter, 
pretending to have achieved the result himself through 
his absent supervision. 

Eater in the day she repaired to her favorite resort in the 
walnut grove. Near at hand were a few neglected graves 
of the first immigrants, and further off at intervals were 
the ruins of what had been an enclosure of a contemplated 
burial ground. The place and its associations, with the 
sweet calm of the Sabbath afternoon, induced pensive re- 
trospection. Again her thoughts went back to the old 
home in Sweden ; she recurred to the revered General- 
skan ; her mind dwelt upon Halvor Mondahl and the sore 
mystery of his sudden disappearance. With tender sad- 
ness she recalled their loyal friendship, his delicate kind- 
ness in averting threatened trouble from their mortgage 
indebtedness, and his last passionate parting from her. 

And then, as often before, she underwent severest self- 
questionings. In her own pride or self-blindness had she 
unkindly held him aloof? Was she herself the veritable 
cause of her true lover’s loss ; had she fully measured the 
noble fealty of his manly soul? What was his fate — was 
he alive or dead ? Alas, the sickening uncertainty about it 
all ! The one immovable lodgment in her soul she felt as 
an indefinable union of tender regret with the whisperings 
of a faith that refused to be buried. This sometimes stag- 


382 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


gered her with such sad and stifling intensity as threatened 
the morbid servitude of her faculties. 

But at such times the plucky sufferer sought the whole- 
some relief of change and action ; and it was in this way that 
she now burst away from weakening reveries. Bounding 
from her shady seat she hastened vaguely toward the 
scene of the children’s late building operations near the 
Brandywine. There had been a .shower the previous 
night and little yellow butterflies hovered in quivering 
company over the road washings by the way, swallows 
darted in gladdening swoops before her, and plaintive 
meadow-larks took rejoicing flights over the freshened 
fields. 

Treading the grassy bank of the creek she approached 
the pair of weeping willows which had before offered their 
shade ; a slight breeze was now toying with their drooping 
branches ; “ how exquisite,” she burst forth, “ the languid 
grace of those tufted, plume-like boughs, those long 
pendulous folds of tender green !” Seating herself under 
their low swaying tips she felt their delicate touch, and as 
she listened to the whispering foliage over head and the 
low wash of the stream at her feet she watched the pas- 
toral landscape slowly deepen under its flood of summer 
gold. 

It was the same peaceful picture she had so often en- 
joyed ; but now the brief walk had roused her spirits and 
banished their tinge of sadness. Once more all nature en- 
gulfed her in its choral gladness : and so as a song sparrow, 
perched above her head, began his measured prelude in a 
retarded staccato of sweet invocation, and then quickened 
into a rapturous crescendo of praiseful melody, its clear 
interpretation seemed veritably to be “ Peace ! peace ! 
peace ! Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, 
good-will toward men I ’ ’ 

The next morning Ebba felt herself free from all pro- 
nounced symptoms of the threatened malady, but extreme 
languor with aching bones and a feeling of heaviness con- 
tinued to unflt her for active duties. Her condition was 
carefully watched by auntSignild, upon whose urgent wish 
Ebba omitted hearing the children’s daily morning lessons. 
Feeling better toward noon she went out to the children at 
their play. 

She was just in time to solace the woes of young Eric, 
who ran screaming toward her with one hand clasped in 
the other, his face wearing a compound expression of 
misery and expected sympathy, while two of his elder 


Ebb a Borjesoji. 


383 


brothers hung back with gawky attitudes and half-guilty 
looks. The three boys had been partnership architects 
and builders of another and more elaborate mansion of 
sods, stones, sticks and mud, all for the special delight of their 
favorite little Brita, who was to be installed as its head 
housekeeper and mistress. As the structure received its 
finishing touches all were so proud of the wonderful 
achievement that it was proposed to fill its several apart- 
ments with compulsory tenants as soon as possible; and 
hence while ‘ ‘ Sis Brita ’ ’ was left to prepare dinner with 
a delicious dessert of sand cake and mud pudding for the 
expected company, the three boys went eagerly to catch a 
gay families of butterflies and bumble-bees as privileged 
tenants of the house. In this occupation they became 
greatly excited, especially in following along the fences 
and catching the bee-borers as they emerged from their 
holes in the chestnut rails; but the youthful Brie was des- 
titute of a species of knowledge which is usually derived 
less from study than experience. He had a boy’s ambi- 
tion to take as many captives as possible, but in his eager- 
ness the young enthusiast had not learned the difference 
between the “white” and “black heady’s” of the hum- 
ble-bee variety — between the honeyed end of the one and 
the business end of the other. This knowledge was pos- 
sessed by Hans and Mons, who mischievously withheld it 
from their younger brother in order that he might pay the 
same price it had cost them; and it was his first payment 
for such requisite tuition of which the young student had 
given noisy notice. 

Ebba applied the motherly remed}^ of kissing the 
wounded finger and supplemented it with a cooling mud 
poultice which speedily allayed the pain. Then having 
quieted the youthful commotion she seated herself for a 
lazy enjoyment of the warm summer day. The fresh 
morning had spent itself, and the air was growing faint 
with the hot tremor of approaching noon. A drowsy hush 
filled all the dizzy midday; farm animals uttered no 
sound; the birds were voiceless; house-dogs held their 
peace; even busy bees and ubiquitous insects for a time 
ceased their summer buzzing, and all things seemed mo- 
tionless save the noiseless wash of the tidal Brandywine 
and the quivering air above its flow. 

The pet fawn, which had followed Ebba, lay not far off, 
and when presently its soft sleepy gaze was turned to its 
mistress, she extended her hand and uttered a familiar 
call; but the temptation was insufficient to disturb the list- 


3^4 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


less mood of the petted creature; while had it answered 
the summons the act could scarcely have aroused the 
sleepy jealousy of old Shaggy lying blissfully among the 
children, who had one after another fallen asleep; so that 
when dame Signild’s horn sounded for ditlner there was 
but a lazy response to the msually welcome call. 

In such simple fashion the season reached and passed its 
verdurous maturity. From the first Ebba had watched 
its advance with the loving insight of a sympathetic 
nature. She had seen the spring anemones, violets 
and butter-cups end their dainty reign; the full-flowered 
lilacs had vielded their ample fragrance to early and 
later roses; the spring beauty had come and gone, and 
successive dandelions had become children’s four o’ clocks 
and dissolved into the air. So, too, the garden daffodils 
and cowslips, with lady-slippers and sweet-williams, had in 
due turn modestly entered the flowery succession undis- 
mayed by the nodding amplitude of the overtopping snow- 
balls. 

And with so much that was of fragrant and winsome 
growth the familiar yard birds had kept loving company. 
From the robin’s nest in the climbing honey-suckle the 
last young brood had taken flight. Gone too were the 
family of cat-birds from their nest in the leafy recesses of 
the lilacs, and to the mother’s whining cry of anxiety had 
succeeded her saucy song of gladness. The clumsy 
young flickers had taken ampler wing and whistled from 
a safer distance, while it had been Ebba’s special care to 
shield from the watching cat the cuckoo’s helpless fledg- 
lings in their tumbling ventures from their loftier nest 
in the cherry tree. 

And withal there must needs be now a pensive tinge in 
the thought that bird and plant life have ceased their 
renewals; for summer was fast nearing its end. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


385 


CHAPTER LIV. 

Some weeks later dame Signild’s cottage was unusually 
astir. Inside and out the lazy afternoon suddenly awaken- 
ed to the patter and voices of children. 

“O grandma!” cried little Brita, ” Uncle Gabe’s just 
pushed off from his island.” 

‘‘Uncle Gabel oh, Uncle Gabe’s coming!” shouted 
Hans and a breathless rival as they raced into the 
house with the weighty announcement. 

‘ 'Well, what then, children !” queried the old dame with 
affected ignorance. 

‘‘Oh, we know what he’s coming for. See, he 
heads into the Black Cat; its all about going for nuts; O, 
O, the fun !” 

And with joyful welcome they ran to meet the visitor. 
Soon there was a confusion of eager tongues with noisy 
confirmation of childish hopes as the little folks returned 
huddling about the islander in triumph to the house. 

‘‘Yaw, yaw,” spoke a familiar voice, in answer to multi- 
plying queries, ‘ ‘ I vas shust roundt mid der blanters und 
all der folks, und I vind tobacco vas curin’ goot und 
all vork veil aheadt, und zo most all but sorry lag- 
gards vill join in der nut-pickin’ next veek.” 

“ Next week !” echoed a disappointed chorus of youth- 
ful voices; ‘‘ O dear, we thought ’twas to be to-morrow.’^ 

But ‘ ‘ next week ’ ’ left little enough time to prepare for 
gathering the winter’s store of chestnuts, walnuts and 
hickory nuts, so plentifully found along the higher banks 
of the Brandywine. To make a social frolic of the 
occasion had gradually become a custom in the little 
settlement. It had no formal origin or fixed requirements, 
but such as chose simply provided themselves with 
luncheon and at an appointed date assembled to spend a 
day in an occupation which proved a ready means of unit- 
ing profit with pleasure. 

The appointed time for the purpose was soon enough this 
year, too, for a special reason. Prior to the day fixed upon, 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach and Rupert Fairfield were going up 
to Shakamaxon, where there was to be a great assemblage 
of Indian sachems with their tribes, from far and near, to 

25 


386 


Ebba Borjeson. 


hear read aloud to them the introductory letter of friendly 
greeting which William Penn had sent by his surveyor- 
general, Thomas Holme. 

To witness so great a spectacle the Dutchman and his 
guest found themselves coursing up the Delaware a few 
days later. With the good behavior of the Sea Gull the 
skipper’s quotations grew as usual to copious eloquence. 
They were confined on this occasion to the fervid poetry of 
Scriptural passages and they had so beguiled the time that 
the yacht had already passed the mouth of the Schuylkill, 
when the islander ceased and gazed in the larboard 
distance. 

“Pray go on. Uncle Gabe,’’ said Rupert, “ quote more 
from the Bible; quote from the poets.’’ 

“Nay, after tdrinking at der zacred vountain den 
‘ should a vise man utter vain knowledge und fill his pelly 
mit der east vind,’ as der goot book zay?” 

“ Hear the reckless biblicist. Now, where find ye such 
language in the Holy Scriptures?’’ 

“ Mebpe den of ye need der zame reproof shust as Eli- 
phaz der Temanite gif, ye find der zame vords in book ov 
Job. But see, see yonter ish Cuwequenaka ! where der 
Quaker town is being gradled in der vilderness.’’ 

They gazed at a lofty grove across a broad leftward 
bend of the river bordering an open grassy sweep, and 
later as they passed a bold wooded shore they heard the 
ring of the ax, snuffed the odor of withered foliage, and 
saw the long parallel streets of the neV town chopped 
through the woods at right angles with the river’s shore. 
Here, too, they had a glimpse of the earliest of those rude 
caves dug into the river bank, which afterward became the 
forced resort of the fast crowding settlers. A little further 
on they saw a vast concourse of red men at Shakamaxon, 
where they landed and in due time heard read and inter- 
preted the gentle salutatory of Penn to his wild brethren, 
that famous promise of love and amity whose happy ful- 
fillment bore abundant fruit in the peace and prosperity of 
after times. 

Upon their return our friends were accompanied by 
Arvid Borjeson. Mr. Fairfield had met him for a few 
moments only upon a prior occasion, and as the ardent 
Swede was as full as ever of earnest talk about the Quaker 
settlement the Virginian found himself watching the 
speaker for subtle resemblances to his sister. He hardly 
knew just how much of his interest in the brother was due 
to that sister, nor could he account to himself for the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


387 


strange heart-glow which through the livelier animal spirits 
of the brother seemed to both lack and prove the finer 
qualities of the sister. 

On the homeward trip the promised inspection was 
made of the site and water power for the proposed mill on 
Upland creek, and Friend Pusey was complimented 
upon a selection which has had the endorsement of con- 
tinued occupation and development to the present day. 

Resuming their voyage from Upland Arvid continued on 
with his friends to Christine to visit his sister. As they 
sailed homeward a toned light lay upon the river as neu- 
tral as the season. For it was the middle of September, 
and in nature’s pause between growth and decay the bor- 
dering foliage scarcely yet hinted of autumnal change. 
Suddenly an evening whiff awakened the Sea Gull from 
her lazy motion. With her quickened speed Mr. Rupert 
Fairfield aroused himself; for as they approached Christine 
the 3^oung man found his heart in a strange flutter. With 
swollen canvas the yacht careens before a stiffening 
breeze, but an eagle’s flight would now better answer his 
growing impatience. What means this new perturbation ? 
But he is in no mood for self-queryings; and now if it is with 
something almost like jealousy that he at length witnesses 
Ebba’s reception of her brother, he tells himself it is be-' 
cause he happens to have never before realized how fine a 
sister it was possible for a fellow to be blessed with. But 
his own reception by the same lad>' is marked by the 
frank serenity, the utter friendly calm which exasperates 
a man in a storm. Nor during his stay is his wariest 
scrutiny rewarded by a betraying flush of the girl or a 
blissful odd chance to assail her self-poise. 

And now the expected nut-gathering is deferred b}^ 
rain; Arvid has gone back to the Quaker town, and the im- 
prisoned children peep ruefully from the cabin windows. 
It is a misty and doubtful sky they watch and it covers a 
duller outlook than they have known of late. With the 
vanished summer went garden marigolds and morning 
glories, but the ripening sunflower yet tosses aloft its 
crown of brazen gold. Over all the uplands the white 
bloom of the daisy and her summer kindred is varied with 
the purple aster, the blue-fringed gentian and the golden 
rod. Skirting the marshes clustering reeds and tempting 
elder berries make food for the birds and fun for the boys. 
The fattened maize thrusts its golden ears through husky 
fetters, and in noisy anticipation of sharing the feast myr- 
iads of blackbirds darken the air. 


388 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Little dullness could there be with such allurements and 
the attending bounty of autumnal fruits and nuts; and 
least of all was there when the colonists at length assem- 
bled for their simple festival of nut-gathering. It was a 
bright warm day near the end of September, and there 
was a freshness in the air which quickened without driv- 
ing the energies. Ebba was unexpectedly delayed at the 
house, but the impatient children had gone on with a 
neighbor and had been joined by Nicodemus Knight, who 
of late had been unusually attentive to them all. 

Through continued detention Ebba was late in leaving 
the house, and the watchful Virginian seized the oppor- 
tunity to linger in her company. But her hindrances were 
not yet over; whereat the young man hardly knew whether 
he was more pleased than vexed. For at one moment as 
they walked on she would interrupt their talk by stepping 
aside to secure tempting specimens of ox-eyed daisies or 
the golden rod; at another she would cause delay by linger- 
ing over the last of the sweet-scented toad’s flax, and per- 
haps as often break the continuity of his choicest sentences 
by darting from his side to rescue a luckless butterfly 
from an enemy’s snare or by flinging a saucy 
answer to the scolding chatterbox of a red squirrel. 

But if Rupert Fairfield had not met a wholly charming 
companion it is needless to say he did not find her a dull 
one. She seemed to have as many sides as the animal and 
plant life constantly revealed about them. He had him- 
self little appreciation of primeval nature, but here was an 
intricate sample of the human variety which at least piqued 
his curiosity. He found himself growing susceptible to 
the ring of her voice, the glow of her smile, the riveting 
flash of her eye ; and in their subtle contagion he was con- 
tent to interpret the outward from the inward nature be- 
fore him. Nor was the scrutiny he gave her keener than 
that given him by a pair of scowling eyes; for Nicodemus 
Knight, growing suspicious at Ebba’s continued absence, 
had stolen back to keep watch upon his rival. 

When the couple at length reached a well-known grove 
skirting the denser woods, lo ! what piles of the hunted 
treasures the people had already gathered. Small pyra- 
mids of white-cheeked hickory nuts and of rivalling wal- 
nuts in their coats of rusty green flanked a space where 
in carpeted profusion brown-faced chestnuts peeped from 
their prickly cells or shone apart in saucy temptation. 

Soon the young people urged that they should go where 
the nuts were more plentiful further up the creek, to which 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


389 


some cautious older folks objected that the proposed place 
Avas within the haunted precints of the ruined castle’s 
ghostly mysteries, into which they had been warned not to 
intrude. But their opposition grew less determined after 
some discussion, while the clamor of the others increased. 
It is the positive men who win, once safe conservatism 
makes any concession at all. All the good faeries of won- 
derland are on- their side: and so, when an aggressive few 
now confidently led the way, they leavened the party into 
motion ; the others yielding to the influence they had too 
little will or care to resist. Before leaving, the question 
arose how to dispose of the nuts they had already gath- 
ered, which was settled by Nicodemus Knight, who in a 
proclaiming voice said: 

“ Keep ’em in separate piles and kiver ’em with some 
mark of your own, and I’ll fetch my horse and haul ’em to 
each owner.” 

It was said with a fine air of patronizing kindness; for 
the provident yeoman could not resist so tempting an op- 
portunity to show his importance as the owner of one of 
the very few horses at that time to be found in any river 
settlement. For with boats on water and oxen on land 
horses had become as unnecessary as unattainable since 
the Dutch times when they were hired by their corporate 
owners to the farming colonists. 

On the last selected ground the nut-gathering was vig- 
orously resumed until lunching time, a little past the 
bright still noon. Then when they assembled on th^ 
shady summit of Will’s Rock and were seated in hungry 
knots to devour their cold viands, there were various re- 
hersals of the legends connected with the place. Lack of 
‘definable cause for it left the more room for the imagina- 
tion to connect the spot with the half-dreaded mysteries of 
northern mythology. No doubts as to the home or ubi- 
quity of the heaven and earth combatants prevented their 
telling once more how in the huge rock-castle of Jotun- 
heimr or Giant’s Home, which once stood on that spot, its 
master-giant, the mighty Vafthrudnir, held a great de- 
hate with the supreme god Odin concerning the enigma of 
life and destiny of man; how the giant, upon his defeat in 
the discussion, had, in his vengeful wrath, pulled down 
the great temple, many ruins of which and of its vast 
stone furniture, still lay scattered on the steep declivity 
below them; and how in his Sampson-like act Vafthrudnir 
had, according to one account, suffered the fate of Samp- 
son, but according to another, had somehow escaped de- 


390 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


struction and fled to a cave across the creek, leaving his 
foot-prints on its nearest shores; and more than one of the 
party told how their deceased grandparents had caught 
glimpses of the giant or his ghost as he flitted here through 
the ruin he had wrought in his blind despair. 

After luncheon, with its attendant talk, following the 
morning activities, the people feeling drowsy with the 
warm restful noon sprawled themselves about in chance at- 
titudes; and while most of those not disquieted by ghostly 
visions indulged in sleep, all were presently lulled in noon- 
day languor. It was this opportunity that Ebba gladlj^ 
seized to steal softly away to a little mossy terrace shut in 
among lodged rocks under the summit. With its hugely 
massive and vine-clad surroundings it was a grimly se- 
cluded spot, into which the vertical sun. struggling 
through a leafy canopy, sent an exquisitely toned light of 
luminous green. In this rude 'bower of rugged strength 
and tender beauty she took a ferny seat and surrendered 
herself to oddly mingled influences. The wholesome 
breath of sunny mid-day mutely strove with the dank 
forest’s mould and mystery; the darkened calm balanced 
the glare and fret of gairish day, and not all the dispelling 
stolidity or the ready commonplaces of the hour and peo- 
ple at hand could abate the hushed solemnity of the place 
or break the spell of its weird fascination. 

And with this mystic cajolement the place had then as 
it has to-day the wholesomer charm of winsome and pictur- 
esque beauty. As Ebba gazed downward into the rocky 
gorge through waving tree-tops, bright flashes of the 
plunging current greeted her amid the foliage far below. 
She mused over the resistless might with which the little 
stream had persistently carved its deep pathway; her 
heart gladdened with the soft bright tone which the cling- 
ing verdure lent to the jagged gloom of the wilderness, 
and it was with a sort of sympathetic wonder that she saw 
how infant trees, struggling for a foothold among envious 
rocks, had reared themselves in majestic strength and 
towered in lofty triumph. Then as her thoughts rambled 
she recalled that May-day adventure to the place with the 
varied incidents of her morning ramble and meeting with 
Okowela, all so strangely linked with her introductory ex- 
periences of the New World. 

But from widening reverie Ebba was suddenly startled 
by a sound from behind a brushy mound near by. She 
held her breath and listened. There was a silent pause and 
she had hardly decided that it was simply the husk5r 


Ebba Borjeso7i. 


391 


sound of a man clearing his throat when from the tangled 
gloom she saw a man’s head bobbing among the rocks; 
and the next moment Nicodemus Knight stalked to her 
side. 

“Why, Herr Knight,’’ she exclaimed, after an easy 
greeting of her visitor, “ how found you my retreat ?’’ 

“ Only by powerful searchin’, miss. I seed ye when ye 
fust left us on the hill- top, but when I follered I lost my 
way and got too low down; and I’ve had a mighty time 
jist a climbin’ and a slippin’ and sweatin’ to git here; but 
I was bound sure to find ye if it took all day; for I’ve got 
something perticlar to say to ye — something that ye must 
hear.’’ 

“Pray then, be seated,’’ replied Ebba playfully, “my 
furniture here is not sumptuous, but you can choose, you 
see, a vine seat, a bench of ferns, or a cushion of moss, as 
you like; please make yourself at home.’’ 

The visitor was a little disconcerted by the manner of 
reception but he had come to deliver himself of some well- 
conned sentences and he meant to do it; so, seeing only 
room for one person on any of the seats indicated, which 
were widely asunder, he doggedly waved his hand and 
shook his head, indicating that he would stand. 

“Mamsell Borjeson, I have been a planter and free- 
holder in these parts for nigh onto — onto — ’’ but it sud- 
denly occurred to Mr. Knight that he had no need to im- 
ply his age — “ no odds how long,’’ he resumed, “I have 
knowed you, Mamsell Borjeson, fur — fur — ’’ 

“ Four months,’’ mildly suggested Ebba, seeing his 
chronological difficulties. 

“Four months,’’ he resumed, “I — I ah — Nicodemus 
Knight takes this yer occasion to say that — er — ah — that 
I — that is — that — ’’ but the words refused to come. 

“ Perhaps you are fatigued,’’ said Ebba quietly, avert- 
ing her eyes, “ I beg you to sit down.’’ 

And the visitor mechanically complying followed the 
motion of Ebba’s hand and seated himself on a mossy 
rock. There he renewed his struggle for utterance. But 
with this second balk the poor man lost his confidence, or 
mislaid it for a time. Sitting bolt upright he twirled his 
thumbs in nervous revolution; he ejected his spittle and 
shifted his tobacco cud, and adjusting his immense collar 
as if for more breath, he resolutely cleared his throat to 
muster firmness. At length with a masterly effort he 
found an opening and stammered forth: 

“ Mamsell Borjeson, there be times to speak and times 


392 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


to be silent. Then agin there be times when a speakin’ 
man oughter be dumb and a dumb man oughter speak. 
My time has come to open my heart whether m}^ tongue 
be tied or loose. Mamsell Borjeson, will ye look upon 
a sufferin’ fellow-bein’? will 3^e turn pityin’ eyes upon 
the yawnin’ desolation of a lascerated buzzum ? will ye 
respond to the fondest and deepest feelin’s of a heart 
as fully dotes on ye ? to one as offers ye all ? will 
ye — will 3"e be m^^ wi — ” 

“ Nay, good friend,” interposed Ebba, kindl}^ bent upon 
sparing the man, for she had vainl}^ sought b}" look 
and gesture to avert the climax: 

” ’Twould be unkind to allow you to go on; ’tis all a 
mistake: you open your heart to the wrong person. I am 
very sorry I — ” 

” But hear me,” exclaimed the other in a louder and 
firmer voice as he sprang to his feet and extended his arm 
in deprecation of further interruption. 

” I cannot, will not listen to such language,” and as she 
spoke Ebba made a motion to retreat. The suitor seeing 
her purpose, suddenly stepped forth to bar her escape. He 
was a large and powerful man and there was desperation 
in his eye as he now advanced nearer the lonelj" girl. For 
an instant Ebba felt quickened heart-throbs with a briefer 
impulse to scream aloud for protection. But her aversion 
to scenes was a quicker and truer instinct, and speedil}^ that 
latent calmness which had more than once served her in 
danger, came to her aid. 

“Back, sir! — not another step.” The words were 
spoken in a low tone of utter calm, but the}" were backed 
by a pair of eyes in which there lurked the steely rigidity 
of quiet heroism. 

For a moment the two stood with eyes intently fixed 
upon each other. Then the gaze of the man fell before 
the compelling might — the pure and simple nobility of the 
girl. 

“Why, ye don’t seem to know,” he resumed, “who it 
is as stands afore ye. I have took occasion afore now to 
tell ye who and what Nicodemus Knight is; Nicodemus 
Knight won’t hurt a hair o’ your head; but he will 
be heard. Nicodemus Knight ain’t no lazy lout nor yet a 
beggarly braggin’ blockhead ; nor yet agin is he a puffed- 
up piece o’ pretended gentility as comes prowlin’ round 
here from Varginny a-preyin’ on precious innocents, with 
more fuss and flatterin’ flummery than farm or fortune to 
back him: Nicodemus Knight is no sham; he is a man o’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


393 


substance and sense. Nicodemus Knight is the solidest 
and fullest handed planter in these parts. Nicodemus 
Knight has a comfortable house and the best stocked farm 
in the colony, and he has the best oxen and the finest 
blooded horse in the — 

“ Oh, yes,” interposed Hbb?i, with winsome tact in the 
sudden conception of a plan of escape, “ pray, tell me all 
about those splendid young oxen and blooded horse. I 
suppose the colts are much grown and perchance broken ? 
and I doubt not the}^ are proud alike of their breed and 
their breeder.” 

The bait took : the flattered suitor forgetting his suit 
burst forth anew into such lofty laudation of his posses- 
sions that for a time he lost sight of his end in the blinding 
pride of his means. But suddenly recalling himself, he 
resumed where he had digressed : 

‘ ‘ But that house has no lady and that fine stock no mis- 
tress. Both on ’em looks to the wife o’ Nicodemus 
Knight as to a lady worthy o’ the place. The wife and 
mistress of sich a man and place oughter be sich a lady o’ 
quality -as ’ll honor the lord and master — oughter be a lady 
o’ blood and breedin’ as ’ll feel his pride — as ’ll share his 
sorrows and jine in his joys. Mam’ sell Borjeson, will ye 
be that lady — that mistress? Will ye be that wi — ” 

”0 Mr. Knight,” interposed Ebba, who had observed 
him dangling his watch chain as he spoke, “ will you 
please tell me what is the time of day P ’ 

The suitor was dazed, and with a blank stare of surprise 
he instinctively drew his watch and gazed vacantly at his 
questioner. Her innocent audacity was beyond his com- 
prehension ; and when she quietly added 

” Let us rejoin our companions; they’ll be waiting for 
us,” he evinced almost a glad acquiesence as he followed 
her back to the rest of the company. Only one of these 
exhibited impatience for their return. It was the same 
person who had observed the yeoman follow Ebba and 
who, upon querying of himself “what can that pompous 
dolt of a rustic want of Miss Borjeson,” had sullenly 
watched for their re-appearance. 

Other wooings or stranger witcheries there may have 
been in those weird precincts : but from these as from 
wholesomer weariness all alike sought the solace of hum- 
ble homes at the close of that autumnal festival. 


394 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER EV. 

Rupert Fairfield lay idly in the hammock that swung in 
the shade of the trees fronting the island cabin. The 
genial host had hurried off upon an errand to the main- 
land, leaving his guest to enjo)" a morning smoke. The 
latter was an ardent lover of the luxury, but it apparently 
failed to afford its usual comfort on this occasion. In fact 
it was a moody and disturbed face that gazed upward, and 
when the smoke rose too languidly among the branches it 
was hastened by surly whiffs and followed occasionally by 
muttered expletives of more energy than elegance. 

For the smoker was thinking over the incidents of the 
late nutting excursion, and more than once he repeated his 
own first query of himself, ‘ ‘ what can that pompous dolt 
of a rustic want with Miss Borjeson,” while a reversal of 
the query as often mocked him with ” what can Miss Bor- 
jeson want with that pompous dolt of a rustic,” and no 
comforting inferences came with the further query, “ why 
they should return in company with faces fairly expressive 
of mutual satisfaction.” Was it possible, then, that she 
could for a moment think of the bumpkin for a husba — 
nay, perish the suspicion ! it was too monstrous not to be 
strangled at its birth. 

And yet the fellow was the richest planter in the colony, 
and not bigger in shallow conceit than in miserly thrift, 
both giving assurance of ever coveted importance in rustic, 
as in higher communities. And after all who may fathom 
that mystery of m3’Steries a woman’s heart, especially the 
heart of a strange creature made up of pagan and puritan, 
savage and saint? For if her impulses were higher, were 
they not less under self-control and more liable to erratic 
outbreak than in other women? 

Well, the young man did not know — knew less, indeed, 
the more he dwelt upon it. Her unconscious power at 
once to charm and vex rendered Ebba Borjeson the greater 
enigma; and so the gay gallant who had known women 
only to conquer, felt himself fairly baffled by one 
of the least designing and most simply truthful of 
her sex. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


395 


Was it any solace to feel that he himself was alone to 
blame for this result ? For of course he could not charge 
Ebba with coquetry. He knew too well that in his secret 
heart he had selfishly blamed her for being so fancy free 
and frank, so absolutely honest of purpose as to thwart and 
shame his own insincerities. And so as he could not hon- 
estly find fault with her, he found the more fault with him- 
self. At the same time was it not a little hard that the one 
he would most know should withdraw herself in proportion 
as he honestly sought her ? 

But out of his perplexities the young man at length 
brought himself to one determination. He would no 
longer dance attendance upon such a puzzle of a girl. 
Whatever else he might be he was not born on Virginia 
soil to come and go like an insect with any woman’s 
breath, or be singed in any woman’s flame. Weeks be- 
fore he had received intelligence of the illness of his uncle 
Richard, whose heir he expected to be. Duty, policy and 
peace of mind all demanded his presence in Virginia. 
Thither he would go at once. He would have done 
with this lolling enervation, this pitiful lassitude of 
will. 

With the spring of a fresh purpose Rupert bounded 
to his feet. The movement was so sudden that the 
mover thumped violently against an unexpected object. 

“ Heigho dere !” cried the staggering victim, “ vhatforye 
tdrop like ye vas shot?” 

“I beg your pardon, Uncle Gabe. I’m a little 
blind; for I’ve been getting madder and madder with 
myself. ’ ’ 

“Mad und madder mit Onkel Cabe, metinks, vhen ye 
bumps so mad against him.” 

” Nay, that could ne’er be; but I am spoiling with your 
kind — ” 

” O, den spoil so much as ye vill. Perschance like der 
medlar Rupe vas better to spoil ere he vas ripe, eh ? 
Mepbe now — O, I hope dere vas no soreness bout der Swed- 
ish damsel.” 

“Sir! understand that I am not a rejected suitor,” 
and a proud voice and manner supported the language of 
offended pride. 

” Nay, I meant no offense; a dtrue friendt vill not idly 
taunt von for past volly nor tempt him mit future hope.” 

“ O, pardon my hasty words. You have ever been the 
kindest, the best, the most considerate of friends. I fear I 
can ne’er fitly repay your goodness; all the more reason . 


396 Ebba Borjeson, 

why I should not further impose upon it. Uncle Gabe, I 
must leave you.” 

“ Leaf me? oh, yaw, I subpose somedime — not zoon I 
hope den ?” 

” I shall return immediately to Virginia.” 

‘ ‘ Metinks not bretty quieg ven I dtells ye some ting 
bout der dear girl.” 

‘ ‘ What ! How ?’ ’ exclaimed Rupert with eager surprise, 
” how can anything concerning Miss Borjeson possibly af- 
fect my going or not going ?” 

” Veil den, I shust tought ye vould no leaf der girl in 
misery. Mam’sell Ebba pe very sick.” 

” Sick ! say you that Miss Borjeson is ill?” And as the 
young man’ s face wore a peculiar expression of wistful dread ; 
a strange new struggle surprised his heart, while a tremor of 
pitying tenderness stole over him. Perhaps an half dozen 
remorseless dissectors of the human heart have averred 
that there is something not wholl}" unwelcome to us in the 
misfortunes of those we love best ? Nor is the truth so 
derogatory to our kind as it sounds. For is it aught but a 
re-assurance of human kinship ? There is a certain loving 
jealousy in real sympathy, a dread of being left out of its 
pale, of seeing the loved object borne by fortune beyond 
our reach; but misfortune restores the treasure, re-appeals 
to brotherhood fealty and satisfies the craving that its 
truth be brought to the proof. 

Who then shall judge human motives in their last analysis? 
It may, indeed, have been onl}^ selfishness at bottom that 
made Rupert’s heart warm with a kindly purpose — that 
brought him visions of his own loving ministrations around 
the sick bed — visions of tender devotion wherein he figured 
as the hero to whom the rescued patient should forever 
cling in grateful obligation. Engrossed with these new 
musings the young man was hardly conscious of the in- 
tense interest he evinced in the tidings by word, look and 
manner. All thought of going back to Virginia was ban- 
ished or postponed for the time. 

“Yaw, der poor girl,” replied the kindly host to Ru- 
pert’s repeated queries, ” ish down mit der marsh fever 
und no mishdake. I nefer saw a vorse case. She vas efer 
all der time careful ov der schildren und pets und ofen ov 
der ducks und schickens more as ov her own comfort; und 
zo she must in such vay pay der penalty.” 

And true, indeed, it was. Ebba, without personal ex- 
perience of the new climate, could never be induced to 
guard against its allurements or avoid exposure to its 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


397 


capricious moods; and so the ailment with which she had 
been several times threatened was launched upon her in 
all its virulence. Its cause was the malaria bred from 
the rank vegetable growth and decay so universal along 
the undyked marshes and muddy shores of the Delaware 
during its early settlement. 

And how the victim shivered and shook in the pitiless 
grasp of the chill! how her bones rattled and her teeth 
chattered in its hard and icy clasp! and was there ever a 
more deadly sense of mingled fury and bottomless exhaus- 
tion than that with which the poor girl succumbed to the 
rage and rack of the succeeding fever ! In its intermit- 
tent phases it was difficult to tell whether to dread more 
the merciless grip of the death-like chill or the burning 
frenzy of the head-splitting fever. Whichever prevailed 
the sufferer longed for the relief of the other. 

And with the repeated failure of attempted remedies by 
others, what could Rupert Fairfield do against so relentless 
a foe? He had scorned to desert Ebba in her affliction. 
A vague feeling of increased devotion swelled and chafed 
within him, and he burned with the desire to serve her; 
but with all his kindly wishes he found himself madly 
powerless to relieve one who now, indeed, had become 
strangely dear to him? What, indeed, could any of her 
well-wishers do for the sufferer? And such well- 
wishers now surprisingly increased in numbers and at- 
tentions. With an odd sort of jealous delight Rupert dis- 
covered rival sympathizers in quarters least expected. 
They included thoughtless gossips and remorseful spinsters 
who had reflected upon her at the church gatherings, and 
they made themselves known among poorer people to 
whom she had shown little kindnesses in secret. To 
home attentions neighbors added touching marks of good 
wishes. The Staelcop and Stidham families sent fruit and 
table delicacies, the Van der Veers contributed new geese 
feathers for softer bedding, dameThekla conjured the best 
witchery at her command, Nicodemus Knight vented the 
most sounding sentences and flattering discourse from his 
latest scholarly acquirements, and Okowela, who had from 
the first hastened with the ague-weed and other Indian 
remedies, kept the patient supplied with dripping gourds of 
fresh water from the mystic spring near his wigwam on 
the Shelpot. 

But through all the malady raged as with the incentive 
of a virgin subject. Weary hours grew into days 
and days into weeks : and when at last the crisis was 


398 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


passed and slow convalescence made confinement the more 
irksome, every spot and line jvithin Ebba’s gaze stood out 
with weary pertinacity, while familiar objects and marks 
on the wall in the changeful light tantalized her morbid 
fancy, as well with their haunting sameness as their gro- 
tesque transformations. 

But wholesomer and gladder visions came to the patient 
with her speedier recovery. Then she was alternately 
lifted to playful exaltation and subdued with tender mem- 
ories. Her mind dwelt upon the days of her girlhood and 
the old Swedish home. She thought of Halvor Mondahl ; 
and once more she asked herself whether she had reall}' 
been unkind to her lover or could have honorably acted 
otherwise toward him. And if she had doubts touching 
her treatment of the first suitor, could she be too careful 
with the second ? For she could not but be sensible of the 
attentions of Rupert Fairfield. Beside repeated courtesies 
he had shown her. Uncle Gabe had told her of the post- 
ponement of his intended return to Virginia on her ac- 
count, and she felt grateful for his kindness in her suffer- 
ings. What was due him ? He had spoken to her in com- 
plimentary terms. Should she, could she listen to the 
warmer words which had seemed to tremble upon his lips. 
Dare she think of him as a possible lover ? 

Nor were such questionings the only intrusion upon the 
thoughts of the convalescent. For she had heard vague 
whisperings of Okowela’s strange conduct. The redskin, 
at the crisis of her illness, had been seen to take his stand 
at a certain spot covering a view of her sick room window, 
and alternately gazed at that object and the sky above, 
as if appealing to the Indian’s Great Spirit : and was 
it with anything more than wonder that she had heard 
aunt Signild, with playful winks and mysterious voice, 
whisper how on the night of the favorable turn in her ill- 
ness she had seen the young chief steal into the garden 
in the moonlight, and throwing himself on his face, 
kiss the ground where he had last seen Ebba gathering 
flowers, and then bound away with a yell of gladness. 

Alone with her self-communings, Ebba at length fell 
asleep, and a moment later when her aunt Signild entered 
the room she found traces of tears on the face of the pa- 
tient, and thought she had heard broken murmurings asso- 
ciated with thoughts of the fatherland. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


399 


CHAPTER LVI. 

After a long and refreshing slumber Ebba wakened to 
sound of confused voices. Listening carefull}^ she caught 
the rapid earnest tones of a speaker not of the household. 
A moment later there was a brisk step upon the stairs, the 
door softly opened and in an instant she felt herself folded 
in the strong arms of her brother Arvid. Bus}^ with the 
immigrants and operators at the new Quaker town he had 
onl}^ just heard of the illness of his sister, and at once 
hastened to her. As usual he was full of news — fuller in- 
deed than usual; for, after many eager enquiries touching 
her health and strength, he bent fondly toward her and 
coaxingly burst forth — 

“ And my Ebba has more incentive now to her hasty 
recovery.” 

” What more need I, then ?” 

‘‘The last report is that William Penn, after tedious 
hindrances and weary delays,, did actually sail with his 
companions about the first of last month and ma)^ be ex- 
pected here now any day; and thou must get quickly well 
to join in the welcome to the peace Governor.” 

‘‘ I will ! O, I feel that I will. ’Twill be a joyous 
event. ’ ’ 

And so it proved. It was now past the middle of Octo- 
ber. Its bright days warmed with sunny noons and 
•cooled with frosty nights. Ebba’s improvement was so 
rapid that she soon ventured out into the balmy air. 
Loveliness inconceivable ! The forests blazed in crimson 
and gold, with all exquisite hues massed in mellow blend- 
ings. When she last saw outward nature the season had 
not advanced to the hazy torpor of Indian summer; and 
there were yet the deep strong lines and wholesome vigor 
of a bright atmosphere through which gleamed the warm 
landscape in slightly softened outlines. Now all was 
steeped in that tender and dreamy radiance of earth and 
sky which lulls the soul in the very luxury of melancholy. 
Ebba cherished dear memories of the Swedish autumn, 
when the home-fjord mirrored the varied foliage on its 
shores, but she had never seen affluence of color amid such 
glorified light as made all seem like a very benediction. 


400 


Ebba Borjesoii. 


For surely nature’s lovely decay must typify that larger 
fulfillment wherein death is swallowed up in life. 

As her strength returned Ebba extended her walks; and 
every day she thought a yet more golden haze was sifted 
through the gorgeous colors with a halcyon glow that 
gave the glory of light without its glare. Eong a dominat- 
ing green of the woods had contended with the multiply- 
ing hues of decay, but at last nightly frosts, while tinting 
the greenest foliage, were beginning to sear the brightest 
leaves and whirl them from the trees. For it was now the 
twenty-seventh of October. On the morning of that day 
Ebba, with recovered health and strength, started early 
for the Brandywine. There had been rain in the night 
and the amphitheatre of hills stood out against a bluer 
sky. , From the freshened slopes the rambler met a breezy 
greeting which brought vigor to her steps and color to her 
cheeks. But as she was nearing the first rapids she heard 
a call and the sound of oars behind her. Quickly turning 
she was dazzled for a moment by a whirling mass of bril- 
liant leaves which quivered and glistened in the sun, like 
a very shower of gold. 

“ Heigho dere!” shouted a merry voice from the leafy 
screen, “ a shmart infalid dis girl. Vhy, against vind und 
gurrent methought ve ne’er should oferhaul her. Yhat 
for ye fly from me like a deer zo, eh ?” 

“Why, Uncle Gabe, the wind was so noisy I could 
scarce hear aught else and the cloud of leaves hid you 
from view.’’ 

“Veil, veil, den dot vas all right, und ye shust now 
shjump aboard. Mein Gott, vhat a craft for headt vinds ! 
und brafely how ye goom now.’’ And Gabriel 

stood up, wiping the perspiration from his brow as 
the yawl neared the shore; then reaching forth his one 
arm as the prow touched the bank with a ‘ ‘ here, 
Mam’sell, your hand,’’ sprang Ebba into the boat. 

“ But whither go we ?’’ she inquired. 

“ Ye haf heard notings, no ? Oh, veil I dtells ye den as 
ve go. Now, Seb, put about und pull mit a vill.’’ The 
yawl w^s turned and swept down the creek with the joint 
impetus of oars, wind and tide: “ der Mam’sell, den, “ he 
resumed, “haf den heard no signal, no? Yell at early 
dawn der vind lulled und den vhen I vas yet abed I heard 
a signal gun boom from down der rifer; und no doubt ’tis 
der long hoxpected ship mit Gofernor Penn und his 
Quagers all aboard: und zo I hurry for der Mam’sell to go 
mit me to meet dem, hoorah a’ ready !’’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


401 


“ O ! I’ll be so glad to go, with grateful thanks for your 
kindness: but you’ll please stop first at the house to 
inform aunt Signild and get some warm wraps.” 

“ Dey pe here,” said Gabriel, producing a bundle from 
under the bow seat. ‘ ‘ I vas at der house und dtold dame 
Signild, und she gif me dese tings und dtold me vhere 
ye’d gone; und zo now ve — dere’s anoder gun ! der ebb 
is most oudt, der ship has weighed anchor und vill mofe up 
mit der flood. Pull now. Bast, pull like a sea-dog: at it 
mit a vill und ve beet der ship to New Castle.” 

In a few moments they reached the landing at the 
island where the Sea Gull was dancing uneasily at her 
moorings as if impatient to be off. To make the transfer 
to that craft required but. another moment, and then with a 
swelling mainsail the pet yacht swept down the Brandy- 
wine. 

” I pe sorry for dose huntin’ poys; I varned Rupe dot 
Gofernor Penn might gome vhile he vas avay, but he vill 
say he vas dtired shust idling avay so much dtime; und zo 
he und Okevela vent yesterday for a two days’ hunt; und 
zo dey miss der first sight und velcome of der Quager 
governor.” 

They had passed into the Christina and were rounding 
into the Delaware when an admiring exclamation burst 
suddenly from Ebba ; for there, a little below New Castle, 
she caught the bright vision of a noble ship in full sail 
standing majestically up the broad river. The ebb tide 
having run out the current seemed to be at a stand-still, 
and the brisk nor’ wester veering slightly to the west grace- 
fully swelled the canvas and quickened the speed of the 
ship. A white-winged messenger of peace truly seemed 
the fair vessel, and her bright sails, the broad blue river, 
and the autumnal colors of the bordering woods, all mel- 
lowed in the golden atmosphere of Indian summer, formed 
a picture of surpassing beauty. 

A brisk sail before a favoring wind soon brought the Sea 
Gull to the sandy shore before New Castle. A crowd of 
people were assembled on the beach watching the slowly 
ascending ship. Approaching as near the shore as safety 
permitted and convenience required, the vessel moved up 
until in front of the old fort and dropped anchor. Immed- 
iately a yawl put out for the shore. Besides the two oars- 
men it contained two persons, one of whom upon landing 
reported the arrival of the ship “Welcome,” 300 tons. 
Captain Greenaway, carrying William Penn, grantee, pro- 
prietar}" and Governor of the new Province and territories 
26 


402 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


on the Delaware. Then the messenger, producing a 
paper, read aloud to the assembled people a request for 
the commissioners John Moll and Ephraim Herman to ap- 
pear on board the ship, there to have audience with the 
new proprietor in their capacity as duly appointed attorneys 
of his Royal Highness James duke of York and Albany, 
etc., etc. 

The summons took the officials somewhat by surprise; 
for Ephraim Herman had gone from home for the day, 
while John Moll happened not to be on the spot at the 
moment. Being sent for, however, the latter soon ap- 
peared and entered the yawl with the messenger and at- 
tendant, with other commissioners to be rowed out to the 
Welcome. There was indeed a general desire to go out to 
the ship to see and greet the new-comers; and several boat 
loads had already started for that purpose, when the mes- 
senger quietly observed that there had been much suffer- 
ing from small-pox on the passage and that out of one 
hundred passengers who embarked from England nearly 
one-third had died from the disease. At once the ardor 
for visiting the ship was checked, and the owner of the 
only remaining row-boat having declined to take over, as 
promised., a waiting party which included one of the county 
officials, Uncle Gabe was about to volunteer his services 
with the Sea Gull for the accommodation of those thus de- 
terred, when he suddenly checked himself with a half- 
questioning glance at Ebba as if doubting whether he 
ought to expose her to any risk of contracting the dreaded 
disease by visiting the ship. The young lady, divining his 
purpose, said : 

“Nay, I think there is little risk; and if there 
should be much perhaps we may be of some use in nursing 
the sick.” 

“Veil, veil, shust zo metinks a’ready; und zo now 
all apoard mit you.’’ One after another sprang 
aboard the yacht as its master held its dancing prow 
to the shore. 

“Dot’s boot}^ near all; aii}^ more yet a’ready?” he 
enquired as he lingered for a tardy member of the com- 
pany; then pushing out, the Sea Gull swept away and in 
a few moments they were climbing up the sides of the 
“ Welcome.” 

Ebba had no difficulty in identifying William Penn 
among the ship’s passengers, for she was no sooner on 
deck than she recognized in the central figure of its group 
the handsome features and firm sweet expression of that 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


403 

Quaker gentleman who had, in the London harbor, come 
to see Caleb Pusey and other friends off in the same ship 
that brought Arvid and herself to America. There 
was much hand shaking and quiet exchange of greetings 
between the boarding colonists and the Quaker new-com- 
ers; but Ebba’s attention was specially drawn to a side 
group, principally of women, who were bending caress- 
ingly over a ver}^ young infant which, having been born 
during the voyage, they had named “ Seaborn,” being the 
seventh child of the Welsh family of Evan and Jean Oliver, 
all on board. 

Turning from these Ebba heard whispered sounds of 
‘ ‘ thee ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ thou ” and from sober groups in calm con- 
sultation she caught the names of Benjamin Chambers and 
Richard Townsend and Ellen Cowgill; intermingled with 
low-voiced salutations to ” Friend Croasdale” and 
“Friend Hayhurst,” with gentle queries from “Friend 
Stackhouse” and Bartholomew Green, and quiet responses 
from “Friend Rearson” and Joshua Morris, while from 
the suppressed murmurs in general there seemed a brood- 
ing expectation of a coming event. 

As soon as the bustle from the boarding visitors had 
subsided, William Penn, standing between his friend Pear- 
son on the one side and Thomas Wynne on the other, pro- 
duced two ponderous documents elegantly engrossed upon 
parchment with pendant seals and elaborate attestation, 
which he deliberately unfolded, and after addressing John 
Moll by name, while soliciting silent attention from all, 
proceeded to read aloud in a voice of soft precision and 
distinct articulation. The instruments proved to be in- 
dentures or deeds of enfeoffment from under the hand and 
seal of His Royal Highness, James Duke of York and Al- 
bany, &c., each bearing date the 28th day of August, 
1682, and both making conveyances to William Penn, one 
of the “ county of New Castle, with twelve miles distance 
north and south thereunto belonging,” and the other be- 
ginning twelve miles below New Castle and extending 
south unto Cape Henlopen.” To each deed was added a 
letter of attorney from the granting Duke of York, fully 
authorizing and directing John Moll and Ephraim Herman, 
in his name to transfer the territories described in the 
deeds, and give quiet and peaceable possession of the same 
to the grantee. 

“There, Friend Moll,” said the Quaker Governor, “do 
thou take the Indentures and examine them to thy satis- 
faction.” 


404 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


After Mr. Moll had scrutinized the documents so handed 
him for a few moments, William Penn resumed: 

“Thou perceives! that Ephraim Herman and thyself, 
Friend Moll, are fully empowered and directed by the 
grantor to give me quiet and peaceable possession of the 
granted premises; art thou prepared to do so?” 

“lam,” replied Mr. Moll, “so far as I am concerned; 
but there should be, of course, proper consultation and joint 
action by the attorneys in so important a matter; and as 
Mr. Herman happens to be gone from home to-day I am 
compelled to ask twenty-four hours’ consideration that I 
may communicate with my fellow attorney.” 

“A reasonable request, surely,” said William Penn, 
“which I cheerfully grant thee; but as time urges after our 
wasting and weary voyage of well-nigh two months I trust 
there will be no cause for further delay.” 

Mr. Moll, after a whispered consultation with the com- 
missioners accompanying him, announced that within “the 
compass of time desired ’ ’ they should certainh^ ‘ ‘ comply 
with His Royal Highness’ orders.” 

“Then let the formal delivery,” said Penn, “be ap- 
pointed to take place at high noon on the morrow, yonder 
on the beach in front of the fort.” 

“So be it,” responded Moll, to which the other com- 
missioners nodded their assent. And at once there was 
a hurrying movement among the shore visitors to leave the 
ship. 

“ Dot vas goot,” exclaimed Uncle Gabe, “ dot vas more 
as goot.” 

‘ ‘ Of what speak you ?” enquired Ebba. 

“Veil den, it vas goot to get dis zensible und Christian- 
like transfer in blace ov a squabble; it vill pe goot for all 
ov us to shwap off his Royal High pigishness for vhat ve 
hope vill prove der just rule ov der Quager governor; it 
vas more as goot to put off der transfer ov Govern- 
ment zo Rupe and Okovela can see it to-morrow, for dey 
gooni to-night; und it vas goot dot all dese beoples now 
go zo fast avay, zo ve shust shtay a leetle to look aboudt 
und keep oudt ov der crowd.” 

And so the two lingered among the plain, quiet people; 
many of whom betrayed evidence of the long, sickly voy- 
age in their pale, but calmly patient faces. All traces of 
the small-pox had disappeared and the fumigated ship 
wore a cleanly and well-ordered appearance. As they 
were about leaving Ebba caught sight of a young Quaker 
woman with a sweet motherly face, who was venturing 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


405 


upon the now quiet deck, tenderl}’ enfolding a carefull}' 
wrapped object in her arms. 

“ Another baby exclaimed Ebba, instinctively mov- 
ing toward the nurse in a sudden impulse of womanly 
yearning; “ O, please may I see it; is’t not a baby ?” 

The young woman clutched her treasure more closel}^ 
and silently turned a pair of large, wondering eyes upon 
Ebba, apparently deeming the request a kind of profana- 
tion; but as if satisfied with a moment’s scrutiny of the 
face, she quietly said, 

“ Yes, thou shalt have a peep; ’tis our. ship-born Jimmy, 
not yet two days old.” 

“ Whose child, then, is it?” queried Ebba, as she timidly 
bent over the chubby-faced infant destined to become one 
day an eminent Quaker minister. 

“The child of Richard and Anne Townsend, born on 
this river here in our good ship Welcome,” was the repl5^ 

“ To be ever associated, we will hope, alike with this 
welcome here and with that to the blest hereafter.” 
And truly, thought Ebba, to the little one so born this was 
a new world in a peculiar sense; indeed, was there not 
here an epitome of Life, — was not this one ship a world in 
itself with its births and deaths, its stress of weather and 
play of fortune, its human freight of germinal ideas, with 
the hopes, fears, prayerful aspirations, the mind, muscle 
and material for the up-building of a new society, with a 
new start and new purposes in life ? So mused thus early 
the thoughtful on-lookers, and a backward look at the 
end of two fruitful centuries shows the broad realization 
of that glowing vision of the pioneer seers as since voiced 
by the poet Whittier in his pithy lines: 

“The rudiments of empire here 
Are plastic yet and warm ; 

The chaos of a mighty world 
Is rounding into form !’’ 

As the two lingering visitors left the ship they saw de- 
parting boats pointing in different directions on the river 
as well as hurrying people on shore, all seemingly intent 
upon the common purpose of spreading the news of the 
great event. And considering the scant means of dissem- 
ination at that early day, the intelligence reached the scat- 
tered settlements with incredible rapidity. Upon the first 
arrival of the Welcome, Indian runners had carried the 
news to Upland and to various points on both shores even 
higher up than Shakamaxon, and boat loads of people, tak- 
ing advantage of the ebb tides of the same evening and 


4o6 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


the following morning, came down to meet the new Gov- 
ernor. Various bands of Indians, busy with preparations 
for the impending fall hunt, being seized with the desire 
to see the great white Father, were on the march for New 
Castle before dark ; while idlers and adventurers, with no 
other motive than curiosity, joined in the general move- 
ment toward the common centre of attraction. 

Uncle Gabe was not disappointed in his hope of the re- 
turn of the young hunters that night, and the next 
morning when the Sea Gull again swept out of the Chris- 
tiana for New Castle her passenger list was increased by 
the addition of Rupert Fairfield. It was the first time the 
young gentleman had seen Ebba since she had been taken 
ill, nearly a month before. Grateful for the kindly cour- 
tesies he had shown her in her illness, Ebba recalled the 
half-penitent thoughts she had indulged toward him in her 
convalescence, including that of her possible mistake in 
having been too curt and reserved toward him : and noth- 
ing could well exceed the charming unconstraint or the 
gracious and gentle deference with which she now treated 
him. Rupert felt his heart quickened ; it softened and 
glowed with a tenderness more real than its wont, because 
he felt its glad surprise : and he was the more elated be- 
cause he thought he saw that Ebba’s kindly ease of man- 
ner meant something more than friendly grace, polite 
indifference, or the candor of heart-freedom. And so it 
was that the man who had not as yet confessed himself a 
lover drank anew the sweetness of a lover’s re-awakened 
hopes. 

From these pleasant reveries the young man was 
aroused by a hailing call and a responsive nod and waving 
of her handkerchief from Ebba. Rupert looked round 
with half-alarmed jealousy of anybody or thing that 
should attract her friendly notice ; but he was somewhat 
relieved when he found that the exchange of greetings 
was with no other than Ebba’s brother Arvid, who had sa- 
luted his sister from a boat they had overtaken containing 
a party of operators from the new Quaker town, with 
whom he was hastening to meet the long-expected propri- 
etary. Soon there was another joyful shout, for they 
had come upon a little fleet of canoes and Uncle Gabe was 
returning the salute of Okowela, who was with his father 
Kanokere, Tamanend and other Indians en route to join 
the assembling people. And so as they approached the 
river grew lively with various craft converging to a com- 
mon centre; while as they landed, on the beach at New 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


407 

Castle the crowd was being fast swelled with new arrivals. 

But Rupert soon found new cause for jealous disquiet; 
for they had scarcely landed before the^’^ were joined by 
Nicodemus Knight. Wholly unaggrieved by Ebba’s re- 
jection of his suit, the man came forward with even a 
breezier stolidity of good nature. Indeed, since his affair 
with Ebba he had cherished a better opinion both of that 
young lady and of himself. He thought he was now 
placed upon an improved footing with her, and the simple 
soul did not doubt that but for the lady’s unlucky wish to 
knozv the time of day at the very moment he was proposing 
to her she would have already become his long-sought 
wife. 

A man so easily satisfied with himself was not easily 
gotten rid of by others. For a mishap that would have 
discouraged most men simply added to his self-encourage- 
ment. Rupert chafed under his uninvited presence. The 
big yeoman, in the blindness of his simple conceit, was. a 
mass of unconscious effrontery to the cultured Virginian; 
and neither the latter’s broadest hints nor keenest thrusts 
sufficed to disturb his lusty equanimity. So in manner 
and muttered expletives Rupert continued to express his 
disgust with self-sufficient dullards in general and in par- 
ticular with the sort that stalked about with the vision of 
a bat and the hide of a rhinoceros. All in vain; the rus- 
tic’s serenity was immovable; and the quiet on-lookers ex- 
changed glances of suppressed merriment over the comedy 
of a contest wherein the visitor was vanquished because 
his antagonist rather ignored than resisted his overthrow. 

And so the little side-play repeated itself in the ever re- 
volving drama of human life, while the hour approached 
for a grander spectacle upon a wider stage in matters 
touching its destiny. 


Ebb a Borjesoji. 


408 


CHAPTER LVII. 

The appointed time had arrived for the formal transfer to 
William Penn of the Duke of York’s territories on the 
Delaware. To witness it the inhabitants were assembled 
about the old fort on the beach at New Castle. Post and 
people had before known changes of rulers; but they were 
merely changes from the conquered to the conqueror — 
simply compulsory transfers b}^ one foreign claimant to 
another without reference to the welfare of the transferred. 
Now there was to be a transfer not to a conqueror or 
usurper but to a peaceful purchaser, ^and all eyes turned 
for the sight of the strangely liberal man who came to 
dwell among them less as a ruler than as a friend. 

Few historical scenes have been worthier subjects for 
the painter’s brush; for few have been so broad in scope, 
so significant in character or so fraught with inspiring pur- 
pose. The event was so important that the whole popula- 
tion made it the occasion for a general holiday. With 
eager interest they gathered about the untitled personage, 
who, clothed with autocratic powers, proposed to estab- 
lish a democratic government; who, fresh from persecution 
of himself and friends, offered full toleration to all creeds 
and professions ; who, with full title to the domain bought 
of royal holders in Europe, recognized the prior claims of 
first occupants in America, and who in the soil thus doubly 
gained by peace, sought to plant the seed of a new nation 
as the abode alike of friend and foe wherein the rich and 
mighty should have not more at stake than the poor and 
humble of mankind. The long coveted conditions for the 
new dispensation were at last all present. There lay the 
virgin domain of fairest nature; and grouped upon that 
beach was the material — the motley throng of men, civi- 
lized, savage and semi-savage — upon whom the experi- 
ment was to be tried. Was not here a picture rich in the 
life and color of local environment with the wider motive, 
repose and variety demanded by the artist for his nobler 
efforts ? 

In the centre of the foreground stood the great Founder, 
not the elderly man with bulky bod}^ and dull featur.es 
represented in so many pictures, but an erect, symmetri- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


409 

cal figure in the prime of a vigorous and elegant manhood, 
younger indeed in appearance than was indicated by his 
then age of 38. With a delicate cast of regular features 
indicating a rare union of force and sweetness; with a face 
aglow with hope and expressive of prophetic exaltation, 
there stood the apostle of Toleration, the examplar of 
Liberality, the votary of Christianity as a life to be lived 
rather than as a dogma to be professed. With an indi- 
viduality thus striking, there was a courtly grace and 
nobleness of mien which clung to the manners of William 
Penn through all his Quakerism; but only a light blue 
sash of silk worn round the waist on this occasion varied 
the customary simplicity of his Quaker garb. In such 
garb, in the drab tone and invariable short clothes and 
broad curled brims of the period, stood a group of Penn’s 
Quaker companions on the one hand; on the other in 
strong contrast stood Penn’s relative, the young deputy 
Governor, Capt. William Markham in the scarlet costume 
of the English service, who had been intrusted with the pre- 
liminary management of American affairs; while closel}^ in 
front facing these were John Moll and Ephraim Herman, 
the designated attorneys of the Duke of York, with whom 
the proceedings of the da)^ were concerned. 

Facing this official group gathered a thronged circle of on- 
lookers embracing a picturesque commingling of early set- 
tlers of different nationalities, with bands of Indians, ad- 
venturers, explorers and idlers attracted by various motives 
of interest or curiosity. In the centre of the line of on- 
lookers a group of Dutch residents, in slouch hats and 
breeches 'of mixed skins and corduroy, give a lazy stare 
of half-concern through the lingering smoke of their own 
tobacco pipes. Beside them some traders — staider, thriftier 
countrymen, with a Dutch scent for business, lend 
shrewder and graver attention to the matter before them. 

To the left of all these are gathered a large crowd of 
stalwart men, blonde-faced women and sun-browned 
children whose blue eyes and flaxen hair give unmistak- 
able proof of their Swedish origin, and in whose best Sun- 
day apparel there yet linger some remains of the un- 
dressed furs and bear-skin costumes left from earlier times. 
A little to the rear and right in grave silence gaze a dusky 
group of natives in choicest array of red blankets, paint, 
feathers, belts and beads, made up of representatives 
from different tribes of the Lenni Lenapes, headed by the 
honored chief Tamanend, among whom Ebba recognizes 
the tall straight form of Okowela; while interspersed 


410 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


among the several groups are small gaping parties or straying^ 
individuals of less pronounced characteristics. Here a co- 
terie of smooth-faced Englishmen look on in complacent 
isolation; there a weather-beaten prospector directs a wary 
eye to the matter in hand, and yonder a few seamy-faced 
fishermen doff their rusty tarpaulins in respectful wonder, 
while a few shabby bond-servants and negro slaves gape 
in half-sleepy shyness in the rear. 

To these add a few idle hunters and a sprinkling of the 
nameless stragglers inevitably appertaining to all assem- 
blages, and the foreground is complete. As a background 
we have on the extreme left the ship Welcome, with furled 
sails, in restful anchorage on the bright blue Delaware; and 
on the right the sharply peaked gables and rusty yellow 
ochre tints of the Dutch-built town, the whole relieved 
againt broken belts of Autumnal forests in the hazy dis- 
tance. Seen in the mellow light of Indian summer, through 
that golden atmosphere which seems to lull over-laden 
nature in dreamy repose, the whole presented a scene of 
pensive beauty rich in itself and richer in its suggestion of 
historical possibilities. 

At the appointed time of high noon William Perm, 
through his deput}^ Markham, handed one of the parch- 
ment deeds to the two attorneys of the Duke of York, and 
then desiring the silent attention of the assemblage, re- 
quested one of them to read aloud the Indenture and the 
letter of attorney appended to it. This being done Wil- 
liam Penn remarked; 

“ You perceive, friends Moll and Herman, the, full con- 
veyance, by the Duke of York, of the territory described, 
to me the purchasing grantee, as well as yonr own clear 
authority and duty to make the practical delivery thereof. 
Are you prepared to exercise such authority in compli- 
ance with the instructions of your royal client ?” 

“ We are,” replied the attorne3^s; ” and first, in token 
of the militar}^ transfer, we b}^ virtue of such authority dO' 
deliver to you the keys of this ancient fortress known 
originally as fort Casimir, afterward New Amstel, now 
New Castle.” 

So saying the two attorneys advanced and delivered two 
iron keys into the hands of William Penn, who thereupon 
advanced to the river door of the old fort, and placing one 
of the keys in the rusty lock, threw back the bolts, and 
taking out the key, entered the structure, and there re-in- 
serting the key locked himself inside the walls for a 
moment. Then unlocking the door Penn emerged from 


Ebb a Borjeson. 41 1 

the fort; whereupon one of the attorneys, holding in his 
hand a clod of grassy earth or turf embracing a growing 
twig, advanced and said : 

“ By virtue of the power given unto us by the royal 
Duke’s letters we now deliver unto you the land and wood 
of the territory mentioned by the formal transfer to you of 
this representative turf and twig/’ 

When the grantee had formally received this emblema- 
tic property he turned to the other attorney who, taking a 
porringer and stepping to the water’s edge, filled it with 
water from the river, saying as he handed the vessel to 
Penn : 

“ By virtue of the same high authority we deliver by 
this token the waters of the described territory unto 
you.” 

And then, upon the receipt of the water by the Gover- 
nor, the attorneys announced that having surrendered 
military possession and formall}" delivered the lands, 
woods and waters of the” circular territory twelve miles 
nearest New Castle, they were prepared to transfer its 
civil government by delivery of* its great seal, books of 
record and official papers, upon due application at the 
court house. 

‘‘To which place we will now repair,” said Penn. 

At once there was a scattering among the people; the 
various groups broke up and betook themselves in a mov- 
ing mass down the shore and inland a short distance to the 
court hduse. On the way Ebba felt her arm gently 
touched. Turning quickly she found Okowela at her side. 
He seemed taller and straighter than ever and a proud 
glad look of eager enquiry was in his face. Ebba, as if 
divining his thought, said : 

‘‘ Yes, yes, ’tis a grand event; it deeply touches me.” 

‘‘ Thanks to the kind maiden; thanks! thanks! to all 
people. ’Tis a big day of joy for red men; Okowela’s 
heart is full.” 

‘‘ ’Tis well so; and I rejoice with you; naught indeed 
should bring truer gladness than the prospect of more 
justice to you and peace for us all; and generous — ” 

But the Indian was gone ; almost before she began her 
last sentence he had disappeared among his fellows in 
the general throng. But he knew that Ebba had spoken 
with simple truth of her deep interest in the gfeat event. 
No spectator, indeed, had been more wholly absorbed in it. 
For while she was lost in the scene and the thoughts it ex- 
cited, at least three of her friends had lent a divided at- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


41 2 

tendon to it : their three pairs of eyes were turned ^alter- 
nately upon the scene in general and upon her unconscious 
face in particular. One of these were the honest if rudely 
staring eyes of Nicodemus Knight ; a subtler, tenderer 
pair belonged to Rupert Fairfield, but the keenest, kindli- 
est, the most fixed and deep in utter devotion were the 
eyes of the young chief Okowela ; for they had pierced 
to the innermost thoughts of the gazing girl, and as her 
recent illness had whitened her cheeks to a dreamier hue in 
contrast with her blue-back hair, his heart softened in 
grateful sympathy, and a strange sweet melancholy, an in- 
definable yearning to serve and sacrifice, which has puz- 
zled wiser heads, clutched at the soul of the young sav- 
age. 

The old Dutch Court House in New Amstel was a two- 
story log structure of very primitive character. It had 
been improved and slightly enlarged under English rule, 
but it was far too limited still to contain the multitude 
which now sought to enter it. To gratify the reasonable 
curiosity of the people the official records and documents 
were brought to the prinqipal entrance of the rude edifice, 
where the legal formalities for the civil transfer of the 
government were duly complied with in the sight of all 
present. Then the new Governor stepped forward and 
spoke to the assemblage. He said that the authorized at- 
torneys of the Duke of York having, in his royal name 
and pursuant to his instructions, legalty delivered the pos- 
session and government of these territories, he •now as- 
sumed their control, and would strive to perform the duties 
imposed upon him. But he assured them that the change 
should bring no curtailment but confirmation, and, he 
hoped, wise promotion of all their just claims and rightful 
privileges. He declared that he canie among them more 
as their friend than their Governor, that their real welfare 
was his first and most earnest wish, and that as he had 
promised the inhabitants of his Province of Pennsylvania 
by letter, so now he would promise them by word of 
mouth that the people should ‘ ‘ be governed by laws of 
their own making,” and that he would heartily comply 
with whatever sober and free men could reasonably desire 
for the security and improvement of their own happiness, 
to the end that all should grow in grace through the love 
of each other and obedience to the will of the great God 
above all. 

A murmur of applause greeted Penn’s remarks, while 
here and there livelier sounds of joy burst forth from the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


41 3 > 

well-pleased audience. Soon a paper was passed round, 
which was signed by a number of the leading inhabitants, 
pledging their obedience to the new Governor and pro- 
prietary, after which all formalities were dispensed with 
and friendly greetings and pleasant courtesies were inter- 
changed between the settlers and new-comers. The 
desire to shake hands with the new ruler and proprietor 
was of course very general. But Ebba could not avoid a 
feeling of disgust at the basely obsequious demeanor of 
some of those whom she had heard villify Penn ; the most 
officious of whom was her church acquaintance, old Job 
Blinckenheim. But it was a satisfaction to observe that the 
discerning Quaker, as if by intuition, gave little heed to 
people of this kind ; for in his desire to pay attention to the 
more diffident persons holding back, they were passed by 
with only the salutation demanded by ordinary civility. 

And busy enough was this genial head of the great 
Quaker colonization in receiving the rough-handed set- 
tlers, saying a good word to one, offering a fitting sugges- 
tion to another, and giving to all pleasant greetings or 
needed assurances with the happy ease and kindly manner 
for which he was noted. Taking advantage of his first 
unoccupied moment Penn pushed his way toward the rear. 
Ebba fancied he had cast his eye on their party^ and she 
thought he was now coming to them. But passing close 
by he went first directly to the Indian group near them, 
and at once there ensued cordial greetings from the white 
Father of Peace to the head chief Tamanent, with Kanoc- 
kere, Nogcotto, Pokhais and other Sachems and represen- 
tatives of the “Original People.” In these kindly atten- 
tions Okowela shared, and if the young chief was before 
gratified his delight now seemed beyond measure; yet in 
his demeanor there was withal such a graceful commingling 
of native dignity with the simple candor of childlike joy as 
should shame the studied unveracities of pretentious society. 

From the Indian group the Governor turned toward 
Ebba’s party. But there was a confused movement of 
the crowd, and presently familiar voices were heard, and at 
the same instant Robert Wade and Caleb Pusey slowly 
crowded past. The next moment these two friends were 
in close consultation with William Penn and Richard 
Townsend, and some of their spoken words were over- 
heard by Ebba and her party. 

“ Yea, be assured,” said Robert Wade, “ of thy entire 
welcome at my home; the Essex House is wont to be full,. 


414 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


but room hath been reserved to accommodate thee and 
many of thy companions.” 

” Friend Pusey,” said Richard Townsend, after an inter- 
val filled with some unheard sentences. ‘ ‘ we are much 
pleased to meet thee; the mill frame is on board all ready; 
and thou?” 

“ I have made selection of a site for the mill on Upland 
creek, a mile or so back from the river. Methinks the 
place must meet the approval of our mill company, as it 
hath received the approbation of divers good judg — wh}^ 
there — ’ ’ the speaker at the instant caught sight of Ebba 
and her companions, whom he beckoned to come forward 
as he instinctively moved toward them. 

” Friend William,” resumed Caleb, presenting Ebba to 
William Penn, ” this is our traveling companion and very 
dear friend, Ebba Borjeson.” 

” I am very pleased to meet thee; I — but hold! have I 
not already met thee ? Thou art not wholly a stranger ?” 

” I know not if you noticed me,” replied Ebba, ” but I 
saw you in the Eondon harbor last spring when you came 
to see Herr Pusey and others off to America.” 

” Aye, surely I do now well remember. I recognized at 
once a familiar look in thy face. And how likest thou 
the country? Thou art from Sweden, methinks?” 

” Yes, sir: when me met in Eondon I was en route from 
Stockholm and voyaged in the same ship with our friend 
here, Mr. Pusey; I like well the country: many Swedes 
preceded and more will follow me.” 

” Welcome to all from those parts. The Swedes are 
among the best of my people; they are peaceable and in- 
dustrious; they have ever been just and kind to our red 
brethren ; they have recognized their prior rights and kept 
faith with them. And thy friends here? ” 

Ebba’s companions were successively introduced. 

” A representative party,” resumed Governor Penn, ” a 
Swede, a Hollander, an Englishman and a Virginian — fitly 
showing the friendly association of the brotherly peoples 
who shall dwell in peace within my Province and terri- 
tories. I trust we may have occasion tabe better known 
to each other for our mutual welfare,” and so as other de- 
mands awaited him, the affable Governor turned away. 

Eater in the day Penn directed commissions to be issued 
to Justices for New Castle. And he also informed the at- 
torneys of the Duke of York that he would authorize his 
Deputy Markham to receive from them due possession of 
the lower territory conveyed by the other Indenture. 


Ebb a Borjcsori. 


415 


Then the Governor announced that he would very soon 
■summon a court at New Castle, where all were requested 
to state their grievances and receive confirmation of their 
land titles. Whereupon the concourse began to dis- 
perse. And so ended the memorable 28th of October, 
1682. As the red sun dipped below the gorgeous woods 
west of the old town, the day’s autumnal calm yielded to 
an awakening breeze, and as the Sea Gull pushed out for 
home Captain Greenaway was giving notice that with the 
turn of tide before midnight the Welcome would weigh 
anchor and continue her upward voyage. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

Under the light of a waning moon the Welcome pushed 
her slow way up the Delaware. At New Castle William 
Penn had landed upon his purchased territories, and on 
reaching Upland the next day he set foot for the first time 
upon his granted province of Pennsylvania. Here he 
hastily penned that still preserved paper summoning the 
promised court at New Castle, through whose agency 
came a speedy adjustment of titles and the correction of 
sundry neighborhood disorders. 

Stirring and welcome events these for the ancient settle- 
ments of the Duke of York’s late domain. Following them 
their usual quiet seemed deepened with something of the 
stupor that follows an unwonted carousal. 

Meanwhile the bountiful autumn with its' apple parings 
and home-brewings had brought the settlers together in 
neighborly merry makings, and now in the later quiet of 
the season the buskers were piling great heaps of the 
golden maize for the final in-gathering From early sum- 
mer the new land’s long-dowered largess had been lavished 
in almost hampering abundance. For the little settlement 
cuddled as yet in the very lap of primeval nature : and the 
luxurious dame, more tickled than taxed with the alien 
youngster, disported herself with the gay and rich profu- 
sion of a wanton. 

But with the penalty of her kind her charms were fad- 
ing. Gradually the falling leaves had carpeted the grassy 
nooks and bedded the hollows until the disrobed forests at 
last stood bare and dark against the sky. And still blus- 
tering winter kept aloof. All abroad there lingered in the 


4i6 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


air a tender hush through which the plaintive crowing of 
cocks, the cawing of crows and the barking of lonely 
house-dogs suggested the voiceful waning of the year. 
“ Old December’s bareness ” was at hand. But a decay 
which is a promise of new growth breeds a wholesome 
pathos wherein is no pain. For even as darkest night re- 
news the dawn roughest winter nurses the spring. 

But if the philosophy of the seasons was thus construed 
by Ebba, she herself was less interpretable to one of our 
acquaintances in this history. Rupert Fairfield was less 
attuned to outward verities than disturbed by inward per- 
plexities. He had far overstayed his allotted and usual so- 
journ. It was now nearing the end of November. Again 
a report had reached him of the continued illness of his 
Uncle Richard in Virginia. He must not longer delay his 
return there. He had resolved to start on the morrow. 
But should he first know his fate from Ebba ? That was 
the question ; and his inward commotion argued that for the 
time it put aside all other thoughts or interests. 

That his regard for the young lady had been growing 
from the start did not admit of question. That he now 
cherished a deep and still growing attachment for her was 
equally certain. Was he, then, wholly, madly in love 
with her ? Could he honestly say that ? If he could not, he 
felt that ever}^ day his heart warmed with yearning tender- 
ness for one who had unaccountabE^ gotten hold of him 
with bonds which he could not and would not sever. She 
held and challenged his entire being. Her many-sided 
nature, if not answered or wholly understood by him, yet 
roused and fed him with nobler aspirations, with thoughts, 
emotions, ideals, higher and richer than he had ever 
known before. And he more and more felt that with her 
scorn of the world’s vain pride this unpretending girl had 
more than the real pride of a princess. 

With such an aidful stream of thought Rupert Fairfield 
was of course not long in rushing to one conclusion — the 
conclusion, namely, that he would be glad to make Ebba 
Borjeson his wife. Could he do it ? That was to him the 
problem of problems — the question initiative to his first 
move. How did he stand with her ? Had he made any 
real progress in gaining her heart ? For without that he 
well knew it would be worse than idle to try gaining her 
hand. Ardent and true as he deemed his passion he yet 
doubted whether his pride as a skillful wooer, or his con- 
fessed vanity as an accomplished gallant had been ab- 
sorbed in the devotion of the lover. 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


417 


No; in this ignorance of his actual footing with the lady 
he dared not risk a failure. Dared not? Yes, he confessed 
of all things he most dreaded an attempt and a failure. 
What of the alternative then of a cowardly desertion of 
the field — of going awa}^ from a possible success and leav- 
ing the prize to another? Goading thought! If only he 
knezv ! With proud joy he recalled Ebba’s kinder manner 
toward him recently; and, as with a throbbing heart he 
remembered her soft voice and flushed cheeks as she 
acknowledged his kindness in her illness, he sprang to his 
feet with a swift resolution to dare all ! 

But if he should fail ! — if he should slink back to proud 
Virginia friends as a rejected suitor for the hand of an 
obscure Swedish girl — a portionless adventuress without 
style or position ! And to support this newly raised ghost 
he recalled the attentions which Ebba had received with 
evident pleasure from that redskin Okowela, — marked 
attentions from, and returned to, a dusky savage unblush- 
ingly before a crowd ! And then there was that stolid 
beast of a Nic Knight ! Should a high-toned lady be so 
tolerant, if not worse, toward so insufferable a boor? Did 
it become a gentleman, indeed, to win if he could, a wife 
against such rivals as these ? But the derogatory thought 
was scarcely formulated before Rupert felt himself shamed 
with self-rebuke. For who better than he knew the brave girl 
with her scorn of subterfuge, whose demeanor to high and 
low was the simple dictate of frank and kindly feeling ? 
Well he knew, indeed, that he had less to fear from any 
rivals than from the girl’s own self, with her lofty ideals. 
Then for a mement he yielded to undue self-abasement 
and wondered whether he could not be satisfied with a 
corner of such a girl’s heart, while with the zvhole of it ! 
what should he care for the world ? by which he meant his 
Virginia friends, their pride and pretensions. For her 
sake could he not dare their frowns and defy their verdict? 
Thus to and fro swayed the young man with the ebb and 
flood of his tidal emotions. 

What, then, finally did Rnpert Fairfield? He did what 
many predecessors, victors and vanquished, had done — he 
resolved to choose his position on the field of action, to 
heed the inspiration of the moment, and while watching 
the disposition of the other side, on no account to begin 
the charge without a reasonable prospect of success. 
Wise young lover ! Fabian-like prudence for so dashing a 
cavalier ! 

While these dispositions were being made for the drama 

27 


4i8 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


of love and war, another little performance of mixed 
tragedy and comedy was already going forward not far 
from the impending scene of action. Skirting the daily 
play-ground of the children was an open, scattered grove, 
amid which a couple of persimmon trees had early shed 
their leaves, leaving the bright, plump fruit exposed in 
tempting masses on bare limbs to the gaze of unwary 
youth. The temptation proved too much for the mis- 
chievous Lars and Hans. Helping themselves to the 
thoroughly ripe fruit, over which they loudly smacked 
their lips with affected gusto, they called to little Nils and 
invited him to partake of their enjoyment. The little 
fellow, forgetful of former experiences with his bigger 
brothers, responded with childish alacrity; and as before 
he was a victim of misplaced confidence. For the mischief- 
makers took care to place only the fair-looking, but un- 
ripe fruit within their little brother’s reach; and then 
they planted themselves prepared to enjoy the conse- 
quences. 

They were fearful to behold: such puckering of lips, 
such watering of eyes, such distortion of the human face 
divine! These they may have imagined; for each of the 
merciless on-lookers had in turn undergone the same boy- 
ish experience; but they never had jointly and with 
coupled appreciation witnessed the effect, or had an ade- 
quate idea of the astringent, wry-faced, fun-concealing 
resources lying within the seductive skin of the innocent- 
looking, under-ripe persimmon ! Amid shouts of merri- 
ment from the older boys, the younger victim of their 
sport ran shrieking to the house calling for Ebba, his 
ever-ready defender and condoler, and it was their com- 
bined voices which had raised such an uproar as to be 
heard by the approaching Rupert from afar. 

It was with a quaking heart that the young man ap- 
proached the house of dame Signild. With her cousinly 
solace Ebba had comforted little Nils: his tormentors had 
taken to their heels and peace and quiet were restored, an 
awful tremulous quiet Rupert thought; a quiet that made 
his throbbing heart seem to sound aloud. It was one of 
those balmy days following copious rains and high winds 
which, coming late in November, seem a very vision of re- 
visiting summer, — a flitting breath and last glimpse of its 
fairest weather before the shutting down of winter. 
Hushed nature seemed in a listening mood, and to Rupert 
the old dame was a little oppressive in the way she held 
her breath. The silent oaks seemed unusually sober as 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


419 


he passed them, the weeping willows drooped lower their 
attuning branches, and the stiff Lombard}^ poplars grimly 
sentinelled his anxious coming. 

As he approached no one seemed to be stirring 
in or near the house. He knocked timidly at the 
door. 

There was no response. He repeated the knock. 

“ The ’th’s in ’e dargen,” cried young Nils from under a 
contiguous bush, whither he had crept in the astringent 
finale of his persimmon-eating feat. 

“What’s that, my little man?” asked the peering 
visitor. 

“ Touthin Ebba doed into the dargen,” and as the 
lately solaced urchin emerged from his hiding place he 
grinned with his gleeful guess at the object of the visitor’s 
call. With still reddened eyes and other facial proofs of 
his late damaging struggle with the immature persimmon, 
the youngster pointed to the side path to the garden, sim- 
pl}^ adding, “ that way.” At the same moment dame Sig- 
nild emerged from the nearest outhouse, carrying eggs in 
her apron. 

“ My niece is in the garden,” she called, with equal con- 
fidence in her discernment of the person sought for. 

“ Thank you, madam,” said Rupert, and walked round 
the house as directed. But at first he saw no one in the 
the little garden. Ebba had gone to a farther corner and 
was kneeling down to care for a last struggling rose that 
had survived repeated frosts. To the sound of near foot- 
steps she had given little heed, thinking the}" might be 
those of her aunt; but now at the sound of a man’s voice 
and her own name she sprang to her feet. For an instant 
she was confused with surprise, and the warm blood 
mounted to her cheeks. Rupert’s pulses quickened; new 
hopes began to threaten him with half-suffocation, and 
when Ebba the next instant extended her hand and 
greeted him in her soft friendly tones, the bold declara- 
tion of his warmest wish almost trembled upon his lips. 
Little cause, indeed, was there as yet for so rash an act; 
yet it is but a doubtfully proper sort of a freezing young 
man who is unmoved when his own presence makes a sup- 
erior woman blush, if only accidentally; and Rupert Fair- 
field was not a freezing young man. 

With the soft touch of her hand and the sight of her 
fitfully glowing cheeks he stood transfixed as if in a fas- 
cinated tremor. He essayed to speak, but his tongue defied 
the tardier bidding of his will. In the delirium of the 


420 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


moment he had retained Ebba’s hand, and with a quicken- 
ing heart seemed vaguely struggling with his conscious- 
ness of the situation as the crisis of his life. Then he was 
suddenly recalled to himself by the withdrawal of the hand 
from his clavSp. 

“Miss Borjeson!” he stammered: but further words 
would not come. The lady gave him a kindly look of 
querying surprise. 

“I — I — I am — ’’ but again he stopped. As if dreading 
to break the spell; as if wishing. nothing beyond, he seemed 
to cling to the present as his supreme moment; and it was 
thus that with a kind of prophetic jealousy of lapsing time 
he seemed to brace himself as with an envious intent to 
arrest or reverse its course. Standing thus his face wore 
for a moment a strange fixed look of joy and dread. But 
to Ebba it was a moment simply of fast growing embarrass- 
ment. 

“I fear there is no seat I can offer you here,” she 
said by way of relief; “pray let us step into the 
house.” 

“No, no, no!” he cried with determined voice 
and gesture; “ Miss Borjeson, I am here to bid you fare- 
well.” 

“ How? you will leave us, then?” 

“ I return at once to Virginia.” 

“ Indeed! you much surprise me. I am very sorry, then, 
if you must leave us. I had not expected it so soon. We 
shall all greatly miss you, sir.” 

‘ ‘ We ? All ? Care you really, then, whether I go or stay?” 

“ And think you so illy of me; think you I could be un- 
grateful to one who hath shown me kindness, one whose 
company I have much enjoyed and with whom I have 
shared so many pleasures ?’ ’ 

The words were friendly, the look and tone cordial, and 
for an instant Rupert felt his kindling blood leap in his 
veins. A blissful vision flitted before his eyes. It was 
but an instant. Then it was all over: the vision was gone. 
Stood there a statue before him? So there might, he fan- 
cied. For there was no flushed surprise, no startled flash 
of eye, no tell-tale tremor in voice or manner. There she 
stood with her frank, friendly face; with her kindliness, her 
utter composure of manner. Blind as he had been with 
hope; madly as he at times felt himself in love, Rupert Fair- 
field was not yet too blind or mad to deceive himself. He 
was young in 3^ears but too old in experience with women 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


421 


— had too much of the wooer’s instinct not to know the 
difference between friendly esteem and consecrating love. 

Yet there lurked in Hbba’s presence a nameless some- 
thing that seemed to forbid despair. Did that downward 
cast of her e3^es attempt to conceal their relenting softness? 
Was there in her half- averted face a quivering trace of con- 
fessing color ? The possibility of it set Rupert’s heart 
aflame again. An indescribable tenderness for a moment 
stilled its worse frettings. But itstilled, as well, his watch- 
ful caution — it robbed him of his subtle wariness; and then 
with a wild impulse he sprang forward. 

“Miss Borjeson!’’ he cried; “ O, 1113" Eb — “ alas, his 
hungering appeal was met by a clear, calm, forbidding eye, 
a quiet look which, in the ver3' pit3ung mildness of its denial, 
he knew was fatal to his hopes. Rupert recoiled as from 
a blow. He seized her hand and madly pressed it to his 
lips. “ Farewell!’’ he exclaimed; “ God bless you!” and 
was gone. 


CHAPTER FIX. 

Taking speed3'' leave of his other friends in Christine 
Rupert Fairfield seated himself in a light row-boat and was 
taken by Uncle Gabe and boatsvvain Seb to the extreme up- 
per sources of the Christiana river. Thence the 3"bung 
Virginian made his wa3' to the head of a tributar3' of the 
Bohemia flowing southwestwardE*, thus crossing the pe- 
ninsula portage divuding the waters of the Delaware and 
Chesapeake bays which the the pioneer settler and surve3^or, 
Augustine Herman, had long before with prophetic enthu- 
siasm, declared was a bar of but a league’s breadth to the 
desired water connection of the two bays. 

This pioneer Herman was the founder of that Bohemian 
settlement of Eabadists on the north-eastern tributary of 
the Chesapeake, with which the earh^ Swedish and Dutch 
settlements on the Delaware long held close neighborE^ 
connection. With these Bohemian settlers both the Mary- 
land and Virginia ancestors of Rupert Fairfield had main- 
tained intercourse of a business and social nature, and it 
was with one of the friendly successors of these ancient 
acquaintances living on the banks of the Bohemia that 
Rupert had left his boat on his upward journey. On 
that journe3' he had come from the Bohemian settlement 


422 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


to New Castle over a newly constructed road by which the 
trip could be made across the peninsula, according to the 
boast of the time, in less than half a day. Upon his 
homeward return Rupert now crossed the still narrower 
portage between the sources of the Christiana and Bo- 
hemia rivers, a route then often followed and now taken 
at the suggestion of Uncle Gabe, who as a devoted boat- 
man, wished his young friend to take a look at the ridge 
through which there had already been talk of cutting a 
water connection between the oppositely flowing rivers. 

Hauling forth his stowed-away craft, young Fairfield 
after hasU^ preparations glided down the widening 
Bohemia, rounded into the Chesapeake and bore away for 
his Virginia home. As maybe imagined he bore with him 
much matter burdening his head and heart. From the 
stunning effect of his parting from Ebba there had been a 
silent vo^mge up the Christina. The kindly host had at 
first tried to rally and cheer his departing guest, but 
partially guessing the cause of his depression he had then 
considerably diverted his attention in various ways until 
they neared the place of their impending separation. 
Then, as if suddenly touched by the rare delicacy of his 
friend, while recalling his many kindnesses, the Virginian 
found the saying of farewell to that friend a trying ordeal, 
upon which he had not adequately counted. For between 
the two men there was a friendship cemented scarcely 
more by native congeniality than adjustable differences of 
character. 

But if this second parting deprived Rupert Fairfield of a 
cheery companion it brought him the busier company 
of his own thoughts. Among these perhaps the last to 
find indulgence was any real idea of despair. In the heart 
of healthful youth is an exhaustless fountain of hope: 
and from all Rupert’s self-contention there survived the 
one continuing thought, the more distinct and absorbing 
purpose to win Ebba Borjeson for his wife. With this as 
his fondest object he trembled to think how . narrowly he 
had escaped a wreck of his hopes by a premature pro- 
posal. As it was, indeed, the escape was more in form 
than in substance; but he congratulated himself that no 
harm had 3^et been done; a result for which he felt more 
indebted to Ebba’s delicate intuition than to his own 
prudence; and herein even he felt himself freshly bound 
to one who in the very thwarting of his premature 
avowal had kindly served him: and if not in love, in very 
gratitude he felt himself held in warming fealty to her. 


Ebb a Borjcsoii. 


423 


And thus with some morbid sentiment born of thoughts 
so centered, the ardent Virginian was buoyed with new 
hope. Nor did such hope seem baseless, considering the 
favorable changes noticeable, less in the girl sought than 
in the seeking lover. For the fickleness bred of his former 
eas3^ conquests seemed ^fielding to a constancy proportioned 
to his present difficulties. These were just what he 
needed. He would show his lady-love the heroic qualitj’’ 
of his devotion, and with whatever obduracy she might 
hold out he would at last succeed by penance and a com- 
pelling ardor worthy of the knightly lovers of old. Not, 
indeed, that any very great sacrifice would be required of 
him. For with a lover’s hopeful vanity he had persuaded 
himself that his suppressed declaration and timely 
desistance at parting had evinced that balance of impulsive 
warmth with considerate self-command which should 
leave a good parting remembrance and afford basis for 
a promising future with her. 

So grew the satisfaction of the traveller as he proceeded 
on his journey. Not unnaturally as he neared its termi- 
nation his thoughts turned to some extent from the people 
and scenes he had left to those he was approaching; and 
perhaps among the latter there was one person who just 
now assumed unwonted prominence in his mind. This 
was his cousin Julia. Since he had actually retouched 
Virginia soil this y^oung lady had been growing, indeed, 
just a little unpleasantly obtrusive in his thoughts. 

In a former chapter it was intimated that Rupert Fair- 
field expected to be the heir of his Uncle Richard. Such 
expectation was not confined to the contemplated heir ; 
but in the minds of others as well, its realization had al- 
ways been understood to depend upon the consummation 
of a cherished parental scheme for the marriage of the 
cousins. This, indeed, had been so long a darling and 
foregone conclusion in the two families that neither Rupert 
nor his cousin Julia could remember the time when they 
had not been taught to look upon each other as destined 
man and wife, to become such in reality with the lapse of 
a few years. With a perversity, however, not unusual in 
such cases, both of those thus fondly coupled together by 
others, evinced a purpose as they grew older to have some- 
thing to say for themselves in the matter. 

Julia Kingsbury was a dark brunette of voluptuous form 
and fiery passions. She was nearly the age of her cousin 
Rupert, with whom, she had associated much from infancy. 
With an impulsive warmth rather than real kindness of 


424 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


heart, she had early exhibited a boy’s strength, with 
many of the boy’s resources for youthful sport and leader- 
ship. It was thus that she had often made herself a fa- 
vorite among her young companions, while for her cousin 
Rupert Fairfield, in spite of their fierce and continued 
quarrels, she had been from the first an entertaining and 
most indispensable playmate. 

However it was with Julia’s feelings as the years went 
on, Rupert honestly endeavored to continue his liking for 
his handsome cousin. But the continued development of 
her imperious will, with more frequent outbreaks of pas- 
sion, had gradually alienated his affections; and the aver- 
sion being somewhat reciprocated the two cousins had 
been for some time growing apart. Yet it was not without 
a certain self-reproving regret that Rupert would admit the 
fact to himself ; and there had been times when, with the 
remembrance of their happy past, and possibly the more 
solid considerations of the future, he had felt a more pro- 
nounced sorrow for their widening separation. 

Now all was changed. Since he had seen Ebba Borje- 
son he wondered that he could ever have seriously thought 
of Julia Kingsbury. Compared with thadark passion, the 
rude, coarse vehemence of the last, how immeasurabl}" 
superior seemed the glowing tenderness, the intuitive deli- 
cacy of the first. Yet oddly enough his thoughts would 
continue turning to his cousin with haunting insistence ; 
and now his advance was quickened with his eagerness to 
find how the girl he was coming to would look and seem 
relatively to the one he had left. 

And at last Rupert Fairfield reaches the fine old planta- 
tion of his Uncle Richard Kingsbury. He stands at a 
widely swinging gate amid a cluster of oaks, and looking 
beyond through a wide approach bordered by lofty forest 
trees, he sees the broad front of the ancient family man- 
sion. Built at different periods and of the several mater- 
ials of log, stone and boards, with a broad wooden porch 
across its entire front, it is an unusually fine and somewhat 
pretentious dwelling for so ancient a period even in the 
Old Dominion. On one side in the rear is a cluster of 
rude sheds and log farm-buildings partially surrounded by 
an irregular yard cluttered with a disorderly collection of 
live stock, wagons *and farming implements. On the other 
side and more hidden by the large mansion is a group of 
low log huts where dwell the slaves and purchased servi- 
tors of the family, black and white. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


425 


As Rupert walked up the front approach a disturbed 
mass of rustling forest leaves circled about his feet. 
Noble ash and hickories lifted high their bare limbs, and 
the graceful nakedness of widely fading nature was varied 
here and there onl}’’ by the green top of a towering pine or 
a cluster of spreading cedar trees. Going to a well-known 
side door he gently knocked.’ Receiving no response he 
quietly entered and stole along a cross entrance. Perceiv- 
ing a door slightly ajar he stepped more lightly, thinking 
to take the family by surprise. From behind the partially 
opened door he heard voices in conversation, and as he 
fancied he caught the sound of his own name he instinc- 
tivel}" paused to listen. He readily recognized one of the 
voices as that of his cousin Julia; the other, at first indis- 
tinct, gradually grew audible as a male voice, and as its 
owner presently moved his position Rupert saw through 
the partly disclosing door a tall man in rough laboring 
dress standing erect facing the interior of the room. In 
his light hair and frank broad face there was something 
familiar, and with an instant of puzzled impression Rupert 
identified him as one of the three white bondmen in his Uncle 
Richard’s service. For white men, as intelligent readers 
well know, were held in slavery in early colonial times. 
The demand for cheap labor to develop a new country of 
vast extent and fertility was very urgent; and, following 
the introduction of African slavery, there was such a re- 
morseless greed for compelled service of like nature that 
forced recruits to satisfy it were obtained from the ranks 
of felons, idlers, spendthrifts, prisoners for debt and the 
unfortunate classes generally, while all classes, colors and 
conditions of men were at times, especially in European 
centres of population, made victims of desperadoes who 
made a business of supplying the slave marts. 

Rupert remembered this bondman as one of the few who 
had been captured from the Puritans of Massachusetts 
Bay. And he had sometimes noticed the fellow's mother- 
wit and intelligent aptitude which had won for him the 
familiar name of “ Bob Handy.” He .spoke pure English, 
and with his good facial lines and light complexion Rupert 
had even indulged a passing fancy that his cousin Julia, 
with her dark complexion and avowed partiality for blondes, 
might unconsciously harbor a friendly disposition toward 
this man, roughly clothed and despised common slave 
though he was. But well knowing his cousin’s propensity 
for saucy adventure he had ascribed her course to a girlish 
fancy for a little outlawry; and so dismissed the matter as 


426 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


too idle for further thought. Certainly he had never 
noticed any special attraction in the fellow, nor for a 
moment imagined there could seriously be any tie between 
the low menial and his high-spirited cousin. And he was, 
therefore, all the more unprepared for what was soon to 
reach his ears. 

As Rupert Fairfield became ‘thus the sport of his hurried 
thoughts, the voices continued indistinctly in the adjoining 
room. With a half-shamed sense of playing the eaves- 
dropper he nevertheless felt himself riveted to the spot. 
Presently, with the silence of his greater composure he 
heard more plainly. 

“ Where then, said ye, are they settled?” queried the 
male voice. 

“On the Delaware river. ’Tis an old settlement of 
Swedes and Finns. There cousin Rupert has been all 
summer. He spends much of his time there, and ’tis his 
mother’s native place. But why do you ask? Are any of 
your Boston people there?” 

” Probabl}* not, Miss Kingsbury. But I naturally wish 
to learn what I can of all the settlements, especially those 
on the route northward; for I must travel from one to 
another as I return, when I’m free.” 

” When you’re free ! You’re in mighty haste to get 
away from us. I dare say now ’tis some sweetheart that’s 
drawing your thoughts so much to those Puritan memories. 
You men are all alike. Saint or sinner, you’re sure to 
make game of us. Whether you boldly vent your 
passion or shyly steal our hearts we women are all 
fish to your nets. You must-have victims where’er 
you go.” 

” Nay, fair mistress, my query was one of but reason- 
able curiosity.” 

” Curiosity ! Leave that to women, men have more gal- 
lant impulses. You look meek and innocent enough 
when necessary, but I vow 'tis a warmer impulse than 
curiosity that’ll hurry you to the feet of that Puritan 
lady-love.” 

The man with a quiet look of protest hung his head in 
modest dignity without replying. 

“You seem to prefer any other place to this,” resumed 
Julia. ” You dislike us; you are anxious to get away from 
us. O, don’t shake your head. I know you care for none 
of us. It’s nothing that I contrived to save you from the 
rough work of the fields; that I had you assigned to house 
duties. ’Tis nothing that I’ve lent you books and consulted 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


427 

your tastes — nothing that I’ve looked to your daintier food 
and better bedding. O, ’tis nothing that I’ve studied your 
pleasure and favored you in all things. You care no more 
for me than for any body ^Ise; you don’t lo— you’d leave 
me this moment if you could; your heart’s as cold as your 
Massachusetts snow; you are an ungra — ” 

The girl seemed strangled. She had been running on 
with a gathering torrent of reproof, in spite of the depreca- 
ting look and gestures of her listener, when with panting 
breath and flushed face she suddenly ceased. 

‘ ‘ I trust I am not insensible to your many acts of kind- 
ness; they have solaced my servitude. I am deeply 
grateful to you for them. You have made life pleas- 
ant for me here. But after all it is a life of bond- 
age, and I were less than a man did I not long for 
my liberty.” 

” Bondage ! Liberty ! Talk you thus? and whose fault 
is it that you are not to-day a free-man ? Did I not arrange 
for your easy escape ?” 

” But would it have been honorable in me after the im- 
plied promise I gave my kind master ?” 

” The scruples of a milksop, verily ! What weighs in the 
balance against human freedom ? But you could have had 
more — with your offered liberty we could have coupled 
sweeter love. My God ! Robert, of what is your pale 
blood made ? Can you not feel what is in my burning 
soul ! Know you not that liberty for you would be bond- 
age for me? If yon have a heart of stone you need’nt 
carry the eyes of a bat. Now, hear me !” There was a 
hasty stamp of the foot and at the same instant the door 
was violently slammed to its place; but it rebounded 
slightly from its inside bang and still remained unlatched. 
Rupert succeeded in slightly increasing the aperture with- 
out discovery and re-applied his ear. And then amid 
passionate sobs and half-smothered plaints he heard 
a girl’s confession of love to the man of her choice — 
the love of his cousin Julia confessed to a family serving- 
man ! 

More than once Rupert had vainly sought to force him- 
self to leave his listening position. He felt it a scarcely 
becoming one for a man of honor. But when he at length 
heard a distinct proposal and passionate appeal from his 
cousin for an immediate elopement with the man she 
loved, he felt himself justified in the opportunity it might 
afford for guarding the family honor. That the proposal 
and appeal received a gentle but firm refusal from the up- 


428 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


right man abated nothing from the girl’s shame or the lis- 
tener’s chagrin, and when Rupert stole awa}' to present 
himself boldly at the front door he was half ashamed 
that amid his mingled feelings, sorrow for his cousin did 
not wholly displace the vague sense of his own release. 


CHAPTER LX. 

While Rupert Fairfield was thus occupied with varied 
experiences, at least one of those from whom he had 
parted, was by no means left in undisturbed quiet. Ebba’s 
self-poise, which had suddenly checked the suitor’s gath- 
ering frenzy, was more apparent than real : and the young 
lady had not long been left to herself before she realized 
that the strength she had summoned for an emergency was 
more effectual as a defence than as a continuing support. 
The tension now 'relaxed, her nerves quivered, her will 
wavered and repose deserted her. Thus weakened, self- 
accusation assailed her and she became the prey of morbid 
introspection. She had before charged herself with cold 
reserve toward her suitor — had questioned whether she 
had not treated him with unfriendly and needless formal- 
ity. Had she now erred in the other extreme ? Had she 
really encouraged him ? It was a disturbing query from 
which she could find no escape. 

Goaded with growing unrest Ebba fled to her chamber. 
Its reproving silence coldly mocked her tumult of feeling, 
and the familiar objects from which she had derived simple 
solace in her lonely hours, now seemed to meet her with 
an unfriendly stare. The rude log walls and oaken rafters 
of her humble apartment had felt her adorning hands in 
various ways. Their roughest places had been hidden by 
festoons of prettily-covered paper, and her limited ward- 
robe did further duty as concealing curtains or extra orna- 
ments, as whim or occasion dictated. A small heavy 
lounge of massive but simple structure, which the Gener- 
alskan had left her as a treasured heirloom, covered some 
unsightly knot-holes in the creaking floor near her bed ; 
various small toilet articles of curious workmanship, me- 
mentoes of her grandfather Eric’s campaigns in Ger- 
many, ornamented a rude stand beneath an antique mirror 
on the wall, while a Persian rug and a small silken scarf 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


429 


occasionally emerged from careful seclusion as relics of 
Sweden’s remoter glory in the era of ancient Wisby’s 
commerce with the East. 

Was it but a morbid whim in Ebba to fancy that these 
long-treasured things had exchanged their mute home 
greetings for a cold and alien tone ? Or did she meet more 
than mute unconcern in their unsympathetic presence ? 
Was it but idle fancy that in their sullen reserve she felt a 
solemn admonition to look well to the ancient family 
honor, to be jealous of its spotless character, to keep sim- 
ple faith with truth yet more in its pure essence than in 
form ? And has it come to this — had she been threading 
such dangerous paths that even inanimate objects must re- 
buke her ? 

Ebba was not much given to the more modern propensity 
for sentimental introspection. With vigorous health ^nd 
busy faculties she had usually needed little other guidance 
than that of her wholesome instincts. Now she was tossed 
with an unwonted conflict. Stern self-repression strove with 
a keen thirst for liberty. The wild, free spirit of a proud 
ancestry seemed to re-assert itself within her. She would 
appeal to its noble yearnings and obey its honest dictates 
against the subterfuges and conventionalisms that confused 
her moral sense. The air of her room seemed stifling. 
She longed for the companionship of the hills and the un- 
fettered waters. She would seek their presence and win 
their healthful aid. With deeper faith and sterner conse- 
cration Ebba breathed forth the Psalmist’s words : “ I wilt 
lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my 
helpf and then sprang to her feet with new light in her 
eyes and new vigor in her limbs. 

Hastily descending the stairs she left the house without 
the knowledge of its other inmates, and refusing old^ 
Shaggy’s appeal to follow she escaped the saucier atten- 
tions of the fawn, and hurried on till she met the gleam 
and roar of the Brandywine. With its riotous salutation 
she felt a thrill that quickened her steps. Intent upon an 
object more resolute than definite, she pushed on up the 
creek until she reached the giant’s foot-prints. Here she 
paused and gazed upward over the rocky mass of Jotun- 
heimr’s ruins: their jangled frown she greeted with a 
vague stern joy. With their mossy coats, their huge an- 
gularities, their ferny and herb-grown crevices, she had 
found more than one occasion to become familiar, and 
with further acquaintance had grown more gladly suscepti- 
ble to their wild charm. Yet they seemed more formid- 


430 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


able and forbidding to her now; and for some moments of 
exhausted energy she was appalled at the thought of 
scaling their rugged heights. Taking a rude seat Ebba 
surrendered herself to the spell of the weird surroundings. 
In their mingled strength and beauty there was something 
oddly congenial to her nature. She was gladdened with 
their breezy elixir and longed to absorb their soulful 
might forever into her very being. For they seemed to 
bring her both peace and a challenge to combat. Then 
with a moment’s lull there came to her like a trumphet- 
call the prophet’s summons: '' Hear yc now what the 
Lord saith; Arise, contend thou befoi'e the mountains, and 
let the hills hear thy voiceB 

For a moment she scanned the steepy obstacles and 
then sprang to the toilsome ascent. Reaching the topmost 
peak the adventurer once more stood on the site of what 
has been mentioned as the ancient Giant’s Castle or 
modern Will’s Rock. The brisk exercise warmed her 
blood, and with its freer pulsations doubts began to scatter 
and inward disquiet to be allayed. Gradually, as the 
calm deepened, all things grew clear to the girl’s vision, 
bringing an olden gladness almost pagan in its menacing 
tumult. Keeping resolutely to her rocky perch she gave 
herself anew to her surroundings — to the jagged gloom 
and watery turbulence below; to the bright and cheer}^ 
serenity above. With these was the repose of the waning 
year’s completed growth, and above all the blue void of 
heaven, in whose utter hush earthly triumph and travail 
seemed alike belittled. If not always balm may so come 
to the wounded, it was winnowed trust that our wanderer 
there gathered; and in praiseful acclaim her wonted 
“ Glory to God in the highest, etc.,” found free and joyous 
outburst. 

“And now,” she muttered to herself in glum self-re- 
proof, ” where can be that stumbling creature, that sorry 
weakling of two hours ago? Stand forth, sirrah; in this 
pure confessional uncloak and answer for thy short- 
comings. What say 3^e to half-hearted wabbling?” 

” Silence ! ’Tis well. What think ye of Rupert Fair- 
field ; is he agreeable — has his company given you pleas- 
ure ?” 

“Confessed! ’Tis undeniable. Well, then, have you 
encouraged him ?” 

“ Not consciously, plead ye. But have you trifled with 
his heart thoughtlessly in permitted sport ?’ ’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


431 


“Denied! ’Tis well; conscience and honor had else 
plunged ye to the depths. But does time make for or 
against him ? Groweth Rupert Fairfield less or more in 
your favor: could you love, could you mar — ’’ 

Before the query was completed in her mind the self- 
examiner, with a sudden impulse, bounded from the rock 
to the rearward bank and hurried away. She had never 
suffered herself to ask whether she could marry any man. 
In deepening self-communion she slackened her pace. 

“ And has it come to this?” she asked herself. “ With 
little more than a year’s separation from Halvor Mondahl, 
am I to be confronted with such shameless questions ? 
Shameless ? But after all what is Halvor Mondahl to me ? 
nay, more, what am I to him, after what has happened ? 
What claim has either upon the other ? What claim has 
the living upon the dead ? Idle musings ! Why seek to 
peer into the dark unknown ?” Could she wisely attempt 
its deeper mysteries ? All she knew was that she had 
found the boon of needed peace. All was made clear and 
she knew her way; that sufficed. 

And then how peaceful seemed all things on her home- 
ward walk ! With kindly softness the pale sunlight 
touched the naked trees and lay upon the brown clearings. 
Lower down where, on sunny slopes, the lingering herbage 
was yet cropped by neighbor Stidham’s sheep, Ebba found a 
gla^ suggestion of pastoral innocence, and over the levels 
beyond the bright river in stately breadth rounded out the 
picture of sedate repose. 

As she approached the, house the children in merry 
chase trooped out to meet her. 

“We tould’nt find tousin Ebba,’’ cried little Nils in 
half-pouting accents; “ we looked in ’e tarden an ’e stable 
an ’e walnut grove an efery place: an Untie Tabe he give 
me knife, an say he make us big sled soon as snow comes, 
an daddy fetch me little boots, Christmas, and — ’’ 

“ There now !” shouted dame Signild from her kitchen 
work, “ye’ve been playin’ at runaway agin or you be 
spryer ’an a June bug, else: for the children have been 
huntin’ and huntin’ and I’ve called for till I’m that 
hoarse as a body ’Id think — yes, and Gabriel Van Onkel- 
bach was here with Dirck the fisherman: and Dirck says 
as how the whales has gone down the river and the other 
fish has went up stream; and betwixt the two he ’lows the 
fishin’ is gittin’ beggar-poor in our water front, only in shad 
times when the devil knows there be sturgeon enough to 
rend Christian nets and fetch ragged ruin to saint and 


432 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


sinner alike. And so Dirck says as how he is obleeged 
to go furder and fnrder up for any luck, and I was jist a- 
wonderin’, and says I to myself, can it be that the very 
fish is follerin’ up these likely Quakers with the other 
scaly disciples? Leastwise Dirck vows he gits his best 
hauls now as high up as Ole Fransen’s bight and some- 
times e’en above that: for yesterday he had to go nigh up 
to Upland, and there he heerd there is to be a great 
gatherin’ o’ folks, a sort o’ Quaker Diet or Legislatur or 
somethin’ to meet there next week; and he fetched ye a 
writin’ which ye’ll find in the house, and I guess it may be 
a invite to the big meetin’ from that Quaker Pusey ye 
come across the sea with, the same as is buildin’ the new 
mill up there on Upland creek.” 

As the old dame spoke Ebba stood without the garden 
palings holding little Nils in her arms, while old Shaggy 
the dog and Zelle the fawn from opposite sides looked on 
with some envy of the child and more jealousy of each 
other. The young deer had become so tame that it con- 
tinually followed after the younger children, from whom it 
would turn only for the caresses of its mistress: but 
scarcely these sufficed for the dog in the absence of 
jealousy, than which no lighter emotion could overcome 
his inveterate laziness. When, therefore, upon the 
mention of the written message in the house Ebba turned 
to obtain the missive, the rival -pets started up with 
a defiant glare at each other, and another belligerent 
scene was about to ensue when the object of the con- 
tention heard her name called from a distance. Looking 
about her Ebba saw Uncle Gabe earnestly beckoning to 
her from the head of Black Cat, and without entering the 
house she hurried off to him, followed by Eelle, while the 
dog resumed his slumbers. 

” How ye vas all der vhiles?” enquired the islander. 
” I no see you for shoost so long time a’ ready; und I haf 
vished to speak mit you for der last hour right avay.” 

“What, then, would you say?” 

“Someting not goot,” said the Dutchman, with a sad 
look out of his broad face. “Dirck der fisherman vas shust 
home from up der river. He dis time go abofe Ole Fran- 
sen’s creek unt peyont Marcus Hook most to Uplandt,vhere 
he heard dot der schild ov — ov — vhat ye call dot Quaker, 
our goot miller friendt who mit you come in der ship — dot 
— dot — Boosy, metinks ?’ ’ 

“ Pusey — Caleb Pusey?” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


433 


“■Oxactl}^; dot der young daughter ov Caleb Busey vas 
lying very sick mit fever; und der poor schild vas all der 
vhile zinking und dey feared she must die: und der barents 
vere all vorn oudt mit vatching und much dtroubles, und 
so metought mebpe ye — ” 

“Would go to them?” burst in Ebba, “as I must and 
shall without delay, if you will kindly take me.” 

“ Shpoken like der praf — shust as I expected.” 

“ Know ye ought of the kind or duration of the fever?” 

“ Notings about dot — only ’tvas long und vasting.” 

“Alas, then, I fear me these good people have been 
worn and weary in their trouble, without friends in a 
strange land.” 

“ Not all der vhile mithout frients, metinks, unter 
roov of Robert Wade; for dey vas first mit him in der Es- 
sex House till der own log house vas shust built; but all 
der same, metinks dey vill shust gladden mit your kind 
vords und sly help und scheer.” 

“ O, it was so good and thoughtful of you to contrive 
help and be ready to urge it on.” 

“ Vhist dere! und so ve dtakes der early flood past der 
morrow’s noon, eh ?” 

“ I shall be ready.” 

And the two friends parted. Ebba, as she turned toward 
the house, bethought her of the written message awaiting 
her. It might contain confirmation or worse tidings touch- 
ing her Quaker friends, and she quickened her steps with 
an apprehensive instinct for prompt action. Hastily seiz- 
ing the paper she burst it open and read from Caleb Pusey 
words at once strangely sad and quieting. He wrote that 
they had long desired a visit from her, and especially since 
they had removed to their own house near six weeks before, 
they had tried to find a suitable time for sending her a 
special invitation to come to them: but this had been de- 
ferred by the prolonged illness of their little daughter, not- 
withstanding her longings at times for the presence of the 
“bright ship lady.” Now they hoped their patient was 
better and they could offer something to engage her inter- 
est outside as well as tax her sympathies within their 
home. For the first Assembly of the new Province of 
Pennsylvania was “to be convened on Second day, the 
Fourth of the ensuing month at Chester, recently known 
as Upland,” and Ebba was pressed to come with “ Friend 
Gabriel” to be present upon so important an occasion; 
“ and that they might all be in quiet readiness therefor,” 
the writer besought them to sail up as soon as practicable 
28 


434 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


and spend the intermediate time at his house, where, al- 
beit only a rude hut of logs,” he hoped they would find 
due comfort as he assured them of hearty welcome. 

Ebba broached the matter at once to her aunt Signild. 

” There agin now !” exclaimed that opinionated dame, 
” why must still be runnin’ after these Quaker heretics ? 
Why will ye make so much o’ them as makes so little o’ 
theirselves ? Think ye now it becomes a well born daugh- 
ter of a Swedish churchman — think ye it becomes worship- 
pers under our blessed Augsburg faith to be consortin’ 
wi’ them as denies Wicarious Atonement and the Hol}^ 
Trinity ?” 

” But aunty, their young daughter is sick.” 

” Is she, then ? Why did’nt ye tell me?” 

” Aye, ’tis a case of long and weary nursing by parents 
and dire suffering by the child. You surel}’ would not — ” 

“Nay, poor thing! Yes, now; and like enough ’tis a 
high, rackin’ fever. Pitiful sure it must be for ’em all. 
Here now, ye must take this pile o’ bone-set that I keere- 
fully gathered myself; it’s powerful agin ragin’ fever; and 
be sure ye take enough catnip; it’s good for most any ill 
turn: and I’ll get ye a lot o’ camfrey and camomile and 
tansey and runnin’ mailers and sich; and I’ll try and see 
Indian Mose to git some powerfuller redskin yarbs; and 
ye must ask that young Okowela to git ye plenty o’ that 
magic water from the healin’ spring nigh his wigwam; and 
if it be a puzzlin’ case, or peradventure there be an}^ o’ 
the ills o’ sorcery or doin’ s o’ the wicked one troublin’ the 
child, it might be that old dame Thekla could conjure a 
charm agin ’em, or for the matter o’ that her last concoc- 
tion from the ashes o’ burnt dog’s hair with dust of bat’s 
wing and oil of biled frog’s inards ought to cure any mal- 
ady from the witchery of a headless black cat to the 
jumpin’ tooth-ache ! And, child, be sure 3^e take clothes 
enough to stay awhile; for if it’s the marsh fever it’ll not 
be soon over and ye must stay by ’em so long as ye can be 
of any use; and — and, why bless the dear heart, where be 
ye ?” 

For in truth, Ebba, eager to make preparations, had 
been quietly moving about in that occupation, feeling 
doubtful when her aunt might stop her friendly suggestions 
now that her kind heart rather than contentious head had 
been appealed to. Nor was the kindE^ dame content with 
giving advice merely. For she judged that folks that had 
been afflicted with family sickness while busy with build- 
ing must have failed to provide themselves with some 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


435 


necessaries in time, and now so late in the year she feared 
they might suffer for some seasonable comforts. And so 
as she had boasted with the pride of a fore-handed house- 
wife that her own winter stores were all laid in and her 
pickles and preserves and various “sasses long ago looked 
after,” she declared her intention to prepare some extra 
desert ” fixin’s ” and nicest jellies to send with her ” very 
best bakin’ o’ bread to them two weary Quakers as was 
far above the run o’ their heathen tribe.” For she had 
been told that the women Quakers were the tidiest of 
housewives and she ” did’nt want right-believin’ Swedes 
to be poor-cookin’ Swedes only to be outdone by misbe- 
lievin’ straight-coats.’’ 

And so all things being speedily ready the Sea Gull bore 
her proud captain and crew with their one honored pas- 
senger out of the Christina and up the Delaware. Noth- 
ing occurred to distinguish the passage from the many 
great voyages of the remarkable craft — nothing unless it 
was their escape from a heedless sturgeon which, shooting 
into the air from under their bow, came near plunging 
into the boat in its descent. The Essex House and its 
welcome grove of beech and pine came duly into view and 
a late November sun was paling to his cloudy rest as the 
yacht touched the slope where Penn and his followers had 
landed a month before. Here they were met by Caleb 
Pusey, who was taken on board, and the Sea Gull rounded 
into the mouth of Chester creek. 

” I know not, Gabriel,” said friend Pusey, ” if thou wilt 
care to risk thy pretty boat in so crooked a stream with 
channel so little known.” 

“Leedle known?” 

“Little, yes; and that little scarce favorable; for a 
scow laden with building materials is the only boat I have 
taken up the stream, and that, perchance, was the first 
craft to vex its waters. I found the channel narrow in 
places and somewhat clogged, though susceptible of easy 
improvement.” 

“ O, I haf been up dis greek more as once. ’Twas mit 
leedler boat as der Sea Gull, but of ve git once past der 
“ twin vhales ” ve go so free as der real sea-gull.” 

“Whales?” queried friend Pusey. 

“ Yaw, dey vas shust couble pig rocks at der scharp bent 
vat you see now bretty quig enough peyont. Dere we 
mebpe haf von tight squeeze. But I timed der tide und I 
_guess ve yust schall pass dem bretty good.” 


436 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


The old skipper’s experience served him aright. With 
some care the Sea Gull cleared the two large rocks so like 
the backs of a pair of small companion whales, which still 
thrust themselves crosswise, at a certain point, far into 
Chester creek. Safely through this narrow passage the 
yacht continued doubling other turns and coursed up the 
stream without further difficulty. Through its mile or two 
of tidal level they wound with oar and sail until they 
neared the stately hills which line the creek’s narrowing 
valley. There they met its descending current and land- 
ing upon a large rock on the starboard shore the visitors 
were conducted by Friend Pusey to his log cabin but a few 
rods away. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

It is needless to speak of the welcome the visitors re- 
ceived. They had both seen something of the simplicity 
of Quaker manners, but they were hardly prepared for 
that latent warmth of hospitality which rather insinuates 
itself by delicate suppression than vaunts its largess in 
fussy effusion. Ebba’s apprehension of finding matters 
worse than could be gathered from their host’s letter was 
unhappily justified. The missive had hardly been written 
and dispatched, indeed, before the sick child had suffered 
a severe relapse ; and when they arrived she was under- 
going an alternation of dizzy fever and exhaustive sinking 
spells. 

But the helpful guests had not been there an half hour 
before the household air seemed buoyant with new cheer 
and hope. In her first rational moment the child recog- 
nized Ebba with a faint glad smile, and at once improve- 
ment began. Worn and weary as they all were, succor 
or sympathy from any source was gratefully acceptable ; 
doubly so the efficient and intelligent help of an agreeable 
young acquaintance. Day by day, indeed, the good effects 
of her quick eye, her ready hand, and above all, of her 
subtle and warm sympathy, were manifest in the growing 
ease and comfort of the patient, whose improvement was 
so rapid that her recovery seemed near at hand. 

The site of the proposed mill having been approved by 
Governor Penn and other shareholders who came in the 
“Welcome,” the stone foundation was being prepared 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


437 


for the framed superstructure they brought from England, 
while the construction of the dam was to be pushed for- 
ward with the hope of having the mill in operation by 
spring or early summer. Earlier still they expected to 
finish the miller’s new stone dwelling, which was already 
well advanced. It was with some exclamatory gusto that 
the Dutch visitor watched the busy operations. To avoid 
crowding the present cabin the thoughtful man persisted 
in lodging at the Essex House, from which he made daily 
voyages to enquire for the patient. With her tender and 
responsive nature the sufferer was growing daily more de- 
votedly attached to her new nurse. In Ebba she found at 
once the gentle solace of spiritual affiliation and the whole- 
some vigor of bodily strength. 

With such rare conditions the sick girl gained so rapidly 
that in a very few days she was able to leave her bed and 
release her nurse from unceasing care of her. Thirsting 
for fresh air and free movement Ebba ran out of doors with 
such rejoicing vim as came near overturning the proprietor 
of the house whom she chanced to encounter at its portal. 
That mildly grave personage, who united something of the 
seer’s enthusiasm with the Quaker’s solidity, merrily 
recovered himself with a proposal to show his lady assail- 
ant the progress of his building operations, while she 
secretly proposed to recover herself to a different end 
— she meant to free her mind of some of its pious 
doubts. 

As more than once intimated this Swedish damsel was 
somewhat unmanageable in her notion of religious creeds. 
For the more she grew to know the vital substance of 
things the less she cared for the variable shadows of them. 
With an odd mingling of the pagan and puritan she joined 
something of the latitudinarian, with a propensity to jostle 
tenets inside of Orthodox limits and ignore them outside 
when barring her keen search for simple truth. She had 
been strictly reared and educated nn Lutheran O.'thodoxy, 
according to which Quakers were criminally heretical, and 
she had heard them charged, without denial, with all man- 
ner of offences. Yet she was here in friendly intercourse 
with the offenders. She felt herself in a false position, and 
her native candor and courage impelled her to go straight 
to the core of the matter. 

“ Herr Pusey,” she began, as they turned from view- 
ing the half-built residence, “will you pardon me for 
relieving my thoughts of what has much haunted them of 
late ?” 


438 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Dear friend, speak not of pardon; ’tis not for me to 
grant or withhold it. Pardon implies an offence, while 
surely to free thy mind of its concern is rather to be com- 
mended as a duty than pardoned as a fault. Speak on, my 
child.” 

“Oft have I heard Quakers denounced as disturbing 
heretics, pests and offenders in various ways, but I have 
given little heed to such charges as but the vague passion- 
ate ravings of sectarian prejudice, unworthy of definite 
denial. But lately Quakers have been definitely charged 
with disbelieving in the Holy Trinity. Is this true or 
false?” 

“ Both, my young friend, — true perchance of individual 
Friends, untrue of the Society of Friends. As a religious 
body we neither affirm nor deny the doctrine. We may 
embrace men of all creeds and of none. Our test is not 
one of profession but of practice; we do not ask men 
what they think but what they do, and the last tests the 
first.” 

“ But does not right thinking lead to right doing ?” 

“Secondarily, yes; but right feeling goes first. The 
child feels before it thinks. Love, not thought, is our sav- 
ing attribute. Intellect makes creeds; Soul makes mar- 
tyrs. Both are found in all sects and out of them. Love 
and Truth, active and passive — the love and espousal of 
Truth — from these come the faith and fidelity that save; 
from their absence the fatuitous infidelity that destroys.” 

“ Is there no more fatal infidelity than this?” 

“Than infidelity to Love and Truth? Are not these 
the verity, the fullness, the spirit of the Father? For God 
is a spirit. Man is made in His image which is one with 
his spirit.” 

“ But is belief, then, nothing ?” 

“ ’Tis everything, when of the heart; for then we cannot 
choose but believe. But ’tis about what they think they 
believe that men wrangle. Hence the man-made creeds 
and their differences, for which their professors madly 
shed each other’s blood. To escape their hardening per- 
plexities we must primarily go direct to" the Father for 
true guidance. Humbly awaiting His voice we shall share 
the Light and walk in the wa}^ vouchsafed to all seekers at 
the Fountain. So comes the intimate and distinct kinship, 
the loving faith between the Father and each of his children. 
A confiding and tender faith thus sacred between creator and 
creature is not teachable by, or between men. Hence the 
utter absurdity of schools of theology; hence the impious 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


439 


folly, the arrogant cruelty of enforced religious creeds, 
and hence Friends’ plea and sacrifices for religious liberty, 
for full toleration and charity for all.” 

” A noble plea and heroic sacrifices, truly; but surely we 
should seek to know our creator.” 

” Verily, dear child — know him by more than the head’s 
vain knowledge — by the heart’s humble communion; for 
who, by seeking, shall find out God; who, by waiting and 
hearkening for his voice, shall not find him, or be found 
by him. The clamor and parade of much formal worship 
savor more of the human vanity than humble devotion of 
the worshippers. Not all who cry Lord, Lord, are the ac- 
cepted of God, but such as do his will; to the which we 
are led by the germinal Light, whence comes the Love 
that passeth understanding, which all who will may give 
and take as the water of life. It is this alone which gives 
whatever life or verity may survive the stifling formalism 
of different sects. It may be much in many of them; it is 
the soul and substance of what the world calls Quakerism.” 

” Oh, then, to be blest with such life and love, one heed 
not become a professed Friend ?” 

‘ ‘ Certainly not. But I know naught of what thee calls 
professed friends. No profession or formality of any de- 
scription, but practice only is requisite to unite with us. 
But I should be sorry indeed to think that the people 
called Quakers alone possessed divine truth. Thou, 
methinks, hath largely its sweet spirit, its beautiful in- 
spiration, as hath our good friend Gabriel. Wherever 
found, worshippers in the spirit may be safely left to 
choose the form and adopt or reject the mere creeds and 
dogmatic contrivances of men.” 

“ Of men?” queried Ebba, ” alas, then, doth our cher- 
ished belief in the Holy Trinity rest only upon human 
dogma? Is not the doctrine of the Triune God, of the 
three persons in the one holy Godhead, of divine origin; 
is it not found and taught in the Holy Scriptures?” 

“Nowhere that I can discover; nor was it broached or 
the idea formulated, methinks, until three centuries after 
Christ. That divine Master taught neither that nor any 
other theorv of divine government, but only the simplest 
practical lessons which a child may comprehend. Of these 
He was himself the blessed Exemplar, who had many 
practical and lowly imitators among his earliest votaries; 
and it was not until these were succeeded by corrupt and 
worldly professors that his holy practices and precepts 
were disregarded and displaced by mystic dogmas touch- 


440 


Ebb a Borjesofi. . 


ing his essence. These worshippers of form, unheeding 
the spirit, sought in grand councils to measure and pre- 
scribe immortal Truth; and for the voice of the soul, the 
simple injunctions of Jesus, and the plain commands of 
God they substituted the edicts of men. It was by one of 
these councils, that of Nicea, held A. D. 325 , that the 
dogma of the Trinity was arbitrarily enforced after having 
been long and angrily wrangled over by Arian and 
Athanasius and their adherents on opposing sides.’’ 

‘‘ Is it possible, then,” said Ebba, with a gaze fixed in 
deep thought, ‘‘that what is established and revered as 
part of the very foundation of our church had no higher 
origin ? Is this generally known ?’ ’ 

‘‘ Perchance not; at all events ’tis a matter not often 
broached in our times; for men, to their credit, seem fain 
to forget so ignoble a period of history. I would not 
have made mention of it except for thy direct query of me; 
for as an additional objection ’tis ne’er well, methinks, 
without urgent need, to unsettle those religious teachings, 
even if erroneous, which are closely linked with the hal- 
lowed memories and morals of childhood. But since ’tis 
begun ’twere well perchance to complete the sad story 
with a reference to the sadder consequences necessarily 
resulting from the needless dogma. Its harsh and 
persistent enforcement, besides causing unseemly strife 
and unspeakable misery among professed Christians, 
really laid the foundation of Mohammedanism; for it re- 
pelled multitudes whose descendants afterward rallied 
under that cause with numberless other followers of the 
God of Abraham, who, while striving to be practical 
Christians, fervently clung to the U7iity of God as the 
unchangeable faith sacredly transmitted to them from the 
teachings of the most primitive Christianity.” 

‘ ‘ But are not these disputed facts ? As I bethink 
me both Scriptural authority and a different origin 
are claimed by our church for its doctrine of the 
Trinity. ’ ’ 

‘‘Possibly; and truly we should alE alike rejoice if 
the discreditable facts could be successfully explained 
away. But I have stated them according to my reading of 
history, and they indeed rest upon much the same 
authority as that which established the dogma itself; for 
thirty years after it was formulated the council of Sirmium 
solemnly decreed that thenceforth the controversy should 
not be remembered because the Scriptures of God made 710 
7ne7itio7i of the doct7'i7ie which caused it. ’ ’ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


441 


They had been slowly walking up the creek, and Ebba 
had been gazing through the denuded woods. 

“ Alas, then,” she said after a thoughtful pause, “can 
it indeed be that our persecuted faith, in the scornful pride 
of its later growth, hath fallen so away from the simple 
grandeur of its holy origin ? Perchance it may redeem 
itself even as these bare trees, lately in their gaudy 
leaves, shall renew the simple grace of their spring-time 
freshness.” 

‘ ‘ But renewal without renunciation is not resurrection; 
it but aggravates the evil. That hath been the snare from 
near the beginning. With .shameful lust of outward power 
the .so-called conversion of pagan Rome to professional 
Christianity was little else than the exchange of one set of 
mummeries for another, without affecting the morals or 
manners of the converted. For the Emperor Constantine 
and his cohorts, for whom the new faith had been made 
easy, continued their unabated butchery and plunder of 
unoffending nations, while succeeding centuries of cruel 
persecutions, merciless inquisitions and bloody wars, all 
perpetrated in the name of a religion of peace and forgive- 
ness, show how fatal was the .substitution of a theoretic 
Christianity of prescribed doctrines and showy rites for a 
practical Christianity of love, right-living and self-abnega- 
tion. Better far to have preserved its lowly purity with 
fewer converts than to have purchased popularity by pros- 
tituting its lofty standard to the easy accommoda- 
tion of ambitious Emperors and multitudinous world- 
lings.” 

” True indeed; for surely in that case the early centuries 
of a fast-spreading Christianity would not have been 
specially marked as the darke.st ages of the world. Alas, 
that the Saviour’s mission should have been so wickedly 
perverted! If the world reject salvation through His 
intercession; if man will not be saved by the sacrifice of 
Christ or the fear of God, will they not be scourged with 
his Almighty wrath?” 

” They must be saved through the love rather than fear 
of the Father, methinks. Through wrath and violence 
and hate His blind children have gone astray: through 
love and gentleness and mercy they shall be gathered to 
the fold. But see, we too, are unconsciously wandering 
away; and perchance our sick lamb may be bleating for 
her nursing shepherd. Shall we return?” 

The sudden change and playful purport of the speaker’s 
words brought a trace of color to Ebba’s cheeks, but the 


442 


Ebba Borjeson. 


heart of the thoughtful girl as they turned homeward was 
deeply absorbed with what she had previously heard. 
The December sun streamed through the valley’s lofty trees; 
through their naked limbs it faintly defined the graceful 
contour of the opposite hills; all about them was the sober 
pathos of autumn’s vanished glories, and an attuned 
soberness touched the thoughts and silenced the tongues 
of the returning wanderers. 


CHAPTER LXII. 

It was a pleasant “ First Day” passed at the home of 
Friend Pusey. At dawn a white frost powdered the calm 
brown face of early December, and the blue smoke curled 
up into over-lapping tree-tops from the outside chimney of 
the little log house in the valley. And when the bright 
sun presently bulged over the hills it peered into the little 
square windows and mingled its beams with the cheery 
light from a broad open hearth from which issued savory 
smells of fried venison mingled with fumes of the frag- 
rant novelty, coffee, while Mother Pusey, in the sweet tone 
of her Quaker cap and white apron, moved with noiseless 
steps in the preparation of breakfast. 

Little Ann had continued steadily in her apparent 
recovery of health; Caleb had gathered bountifully of yel- 
low maize which with many other plantings in the rich vir- 
gin soil had been amply stored for winter’s needs; and now 
with thankful hearts they all sat down to the Sabbath 
morning meal. In addition to the usual silent grace 
the host with good voice and accent read the Sermon on 
the Mount, and after eating they lingered at the table 
in grave and helpful talk upon religious themes. Then 
Ebba went apart with one of her church books from 
which, after studying the lesson for that Sabbath, she took 
the hand of the patient, and with the child’s head in her 
lap, read some of the beautiful verses used in the 
Lutheran service. 

The opening of the Provincial Assembly was to take 
place next day ; and as “daughter Ann” now seemed so 
well, it was thought she might be safely left with the 
mother, while Caleb should take Ebba and go with Gabriel 
to be present at the great event ; an arrangement deter- 
mined upon only after much gentle insistence from the pa- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


443 


tient herself. But Ebba, meanwhile, was determined upon 
another thing, — which was to have another talk with her 
host and learn more of the new and weight}^ ideas upon 
which he had set her to thinking. Alike -reverent and re- 
bellious, what she had heard aroused fresh interest in the 
subject, while her inherited fire and fealty — the olden 
Norse loyalty, if nought else, should make her a fearless 
follower of the Truth. 

“ Friend Pusey,” said she, seizing her first opportunity, 
“ would you deem it amiss in me further to question you 
re.specting those religious matters about which I have al- 
ready queried much of you?” 

” Surely not, dear friend, if thou wilt receive due warn- 
ing of the danger therefrom ; for whether from over-zeal 
or mere vanity of speech I am tempted to impose upon lis- 
eners with over-much talking.” 

“The more the better : I am not easily thus tired, and 
if there be- danger ’twill but serve as a spur, I think: I 
have been longing to ask what is Christ to you, then, if 
not a sharer in the Godhead ?” 

“What, indeed, but the unerring Teacher and Guide, 
the holy Exemplar for mankind, the veritable Saviour of 
men by turning them from their sins.” 

“ Who was sent by God the Father to redeem the world 
by His death?” 

‘ ‘ More by his Life, methinks — by teaching how to lay 
hold on that way of Life which giveth the victory over 
death.” 

“ But this is called little other than infidelity.” 

“ Yea, by flippant religionists, by men who exalt an in- 
tellectual assent to a theory of Christ over an imitation of 
His life. But what is infidelity to a dogma compared with 
infidelity to principle, to want of fidelity to honor, to trust, 
to truth?” 

“ Yet was not Jesus Christ sent by God to suffer on the 
cross for the sins of the world ?” 

“ Some Friends verily so believe, or think they do ; and 
in the absence of a written confession of faith I cannot 
speak for others; but to me it e’er seemed verily to im- 
pugn the justice, wisdom and mercy of our Heavenly 
Father to conceive of his sending his beloved and sinless 
son to suffer death in order to appease his own wrath at 
others’ sins. For I cannot believe there be any wrath to 
be appeased, but rather that infinite patience and tender 
love are e’er shown by the Father toward His erring chil- 
dren. So unseemly an idea of Divinity pertains to that 


444 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


old vengeful ‘ eye for an eye ’ conception of the Almighty, 
which was expressly renounced Christ as unworthy His 
loving dispensation. 

“ But surely 3^011 cannot doubt that Jesus of Nazareth 
suffered on the cross. Think you he was after all but a 
man — that he was not divine ?” 

“Whatsoe’er I may think, I that he was wholl}" 
divine, and wholly human. All men in their very crea- 
tion are sharers of divinity, since we were created in the 
divine image; and God being a spirit, not a form, hath 
given us of himself. The lowest man hath within him an 
unquenchable spark of the divine essence, and the chil- 
dren are in harmony with the Father in proportion as they 
blow into a living, saving flame, that seed of light which 
he implanteth in ever}^ man that cometh into the world. 
Jesus, the Christ, being wholly Light is trul}" one with the 
Father.” 

‘ ‘ Believe ye not that He was born of the Virgin Mar3^ 
on earth, and was sent from heaven to save the world ?” 

“ How He came little concerns us; His presence as a 
veritable Saviour is the all-impbrtant matter. We are en- 
grossed with the truth of a masterl}^ painting; we care 
little how it may have come into the picture gallery: nor 
is it the less or the more whether it came by the one en- 
trance or the other, or by whom it was sent or made. As 
children we feel the wonder and majest}^ of the universe; 
as philosophers we know not how or whence it came. The 
more the spirit sates its hunger, the less need to pry into 
what ’tis not for us to know. It is more vital to know 
the Saviour by the accepting soul than by the apprehend- 
ing intellect. It was His perfect love. His absolute Truth, 
Justice and Grace transcending human limitation to the 
full measure of Heavenly benignity that constitutes the 
divinity of Christ. And salvation Qomes less through the 
miracle of His birth than through the grander miracle of 
His goodness.” 

“And, O, sir, the unspeakable cruelty of His cruci- 
fixon, the unconquerable mercy toward the crucifiers 
whom our Lord blessed with His dying breath !” 

“Yet His greatest crucifiers are those who turn from 
His precepts and heed not His example. ’Twas but His 
human body that perished on Calvary; and His fleshly 
suffering was as nothing to His agony through living dis- 
obedience and rejection of divine love. Christ’s positive 
persecution of early da3^s was the seed of the true church ; 
His negative persecution of later days is its snare. The 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


445 


first brought victory and the vindication of practice, the 
last, vacuity and the vainglory of profession.” 

‘ ‘ And still is the Saviour ever present for merciful inter- 
cession with the Father. ” 

“Yea, hath been and shall be; for as his divine spirit 
knoweth no end, so it had no beginning save with the 
creator.” 

” Believe you, then, that Christ existed from the begin- 
ning ?” 

” In some form, undoubtedly. He was the exemplifying, 
saving principle, the eternal Word or Logos that was in 
the beginning, whom it pleased a father of infinite wisdom 
to manifest later in the flesh, to couple majesty with mop- 
ing purpose and show how great a measure of benign fruition 
and simple goodness is compatible with our human nature. 
In the Nazarene dwelt all fullness, that men with varying 
gifts and temptations might grow in grace by constant 
imitation of the Perfect One, and so attain salvation rather 
by doing the Father’s will than by calling idly upon his 
name.” 

” Are such the views held by the founders and leading 
men of your society ?” 

” Substantially so, methinks; or of some of them. For 
albeit I can scarce presume to speak for others ’twas for 
like views by William Penn published in his ‘ Sandy' 
Foundations Shaken' that he was imprisoned in the Tower, 
from which, however, he was released upon the clearer ex- 
position thereof published in his later books ' I nnocency 
with Her Open Face' and ^ No Cross ^ No Crown' And 
moreover, if I mistake not similar opinions have been ex- 
pressed by George Fox, Robert Barclay and other eminent 
Friends. But thou wilt bear in mind that Friends recog- 
nize no authority save the authority of truth, to which 
each member goeth for separate communion with the 
Father at the fountain.” 

” Than which source there surely can be nothing higher, 
purer or holier. But have you no lower tribunal to which 
you hold yourselves amenable !” 

” Friends oft have tender dealings and urgent concerns 
one with another, volunteered more in love than reproof; 
but these pertain to acts, not ideas, and chiefly relate to 
minor matters of outward propriety. In essentials no one 
or more may speak for all, but each looketh to the Father 
who knoweth the love that doeth and the profession that 
vaunteth itself in place of the doing.” 


446 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


“ But O, the human perversit}^ that so trieth the long- 
sufFering and tender mercy of that Father I’ ’ 

“ Dear child, the trouble comes from that weakness of 
the natural man which is* the origin of earthl}^ evil. It is 
so much easier to say than do, to preach than practice — 
the fleshly eye so prefereth show to substance, and hath so 
long turned from the verities to the vanities of life that the 
misled world vainly clutcheth at the cold forms from 
which the spirit hath departed. Neglecting the plain 
teachings of the Divine Master men have sought to mystify 
His person and purpose. Turning from His nobly simple 
example they have continued in the sins He condemned, 
substituting louder professions for living principles in life. 
Thus in the absence of essentials non-essentials become 
the more requisite to preserve the Christian name and 
tradition. In proportion as men have fallen from the one 
they have exalted the other; and thus it comes that good 
works have been depreciated, religion and morals divorced, 
and the yearning soul instead of being served with the 
Bread ot Life hath been starved with the Stone of Dogma. 
Yet we may not condemn all form, and to such true wor- 
shippers as are more helped than hindered thereby we 
freely concede the same right we claim for ourselves, to 
choose the needful thing. The vital object to which we 
would lovingly exhort all is to believe on the Saviour by 
following the Light and Life wherewithal He leadeth, and 
so walk steadfastly to the great end designed by God, 
rather than balk with the means contrived by men. But 
see, who conieth yonder?” 

” ’Tis Uncle Gabe,” cried Ebba as a sail doubled 
a bend in the creek, ” he seems a part of the sun- 
streak he crosseth.” 

“Yea, warmth and cheer do verily attend Gabriel. 
Belike he bringeth tidings of the Assembly on the mor- 
row.” 

And so it proved. It was the kindly skipper upon 
one of his twice a day visitations from the Essex House, 
which he reported as crowded with delegates to the com- 
ing Assembly. 

“Und vhat ye tinks !” said he, after enquiring for 
“ der leedle infalidt,” ” dey no meet in der oldt House ov 
Defence.” 

“Nay, that building of many uses,” said Caleb, “we 
knew to be too small, and application was made to Janies 
Sandiland for the use of his large dwelling house.” 


Ebba Borjcson. 447 

“ Vhere de}'’ vill meet; und I gomes for ye at earliest 
ebb.” 

Saying which, the Dutchman swept about without 
landing and waving a breezy adieu sailed down the 
creek. 


CHAPTER EXIII. 

Betimes in the morning Uncle Gabe reappeared with the 
Sea Gull and crew, and dropped down the stream with his 
passengers. Landing on the bank of the creek in newly 
named Chester, the}^ turned toward a building near at hand 
which was somewhat imposing in size and appearance 
contrasted with its humble neighbors. It was known as 
‘'The Double House” and had now new distinction as 
the selected place for the meeting of the first legislative 
body of the Province of Pennsylvania. 

About that primitive centre a motley throng of people 
were gathering. With the least possible ceremony the 
Assembly was quietly organized. The very absence of at- 
tempted formality added to its simple dignity. In mild- 
faced gravity sat the silent Quakers in their broad-brim 
hats with crossed legs in knee-breeches and shoe-buckles. 
Among them were a few older settlers in their best ap- 
parel, with lingering traces of the beaver and bear-skin 
costumes of more primitive days, while all about the 
crowding on-lookers stared in open-faced wonder. For 
with the other novelties they were to witness the first mak- 
ing of home laws in place of the arbitrary decrees of for- 
eign rulers. 

Yet at the very outset of Penn’s peaceful experiment it 
encountered one of those distracting penalties of free 
government which annoy more modern assemblies. For 
two claimants appeared vigorously contesting the seat for 
New Castle county, causing delay of proceedings. This, 
too, ere that county was fairly entitled to representation. 
For promptly upon the settlement of the contest and adop- 
tion of rules, John Moll, the successful claimant, and 
Francis Whitwell, appeared in behalf of the freeholders 
bearing a petition with the earnest entreaty of the people 
of the three lower counties, late territories of the Duke of 


448 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


York, for an act of union with the new Province of Penn- 
sylvania, which as promptly became “an established 
law.” 

There, too, was adopted by this first assembly that great 
legal frame-work which has been the admiring wonder of 
after times. In broad liberality, in political insight, in 
the enlightened promotion and adjustable science of gov- 
ernment far in advance of the age, that remarkable “ body 
of laws” embraced fundamental principles of free society 
as adequate, in general essentials, to the advanced re- 
quisites of to-day as they proved for the simpler needs of 
the people for whom they were designed. 

Our visitors were watching proceedings as simple in 
form as weighty in character when Gabriel ended his rev- 
erie with “Odsbody! der dififerenz petwixt der ‘ thee ’ und 
‘thou’ of this ruler Penn und der pig titles ov oldt Dutch 
company’s servant Stuyvesant, who was addressed as — as — 
holdt, I half somevhere — yaw, in mine pocket here, copy ov 
oldt petition ; und I shust vill read ye its address ; To The 
Noble, Honorable, Very Worshipful, Mighty, Wise, Discreet, 
High, Very Pj'iident Mr. Petrus Stuyvesant, Director Gen- 
eral,' und so on, und so on.’’ 

The gutteral voice and swelling manner of the Dutch- 
man as he gobbled forth the cumulative prefixes proved 
too much for the mild gravity of Friend Pusey. With 
something more than the average Quaker’s latent sense of 
humor, his compressed lips and averted look marked an 
internal struggle whose merry outburst was the more ex- 
plosive from its attempted supression. 

“ But I suppose,’’ said Friend Pusey, “that the paper 
was written by some unknowing petitioner with less sense 
of propriety than of pomp.’’ 

“ Nay, ’tvas a letter from Vice-Director Alrichs ov old 
South rifer to der Director General ov North rifer ; und it 
vas der usual Dutch style ov official indercourse.’’ 

“ If such sounding nonsense,’’ said the Quaker, “offend 
in one extreme, our bald symplicity may in the other. Yet 
methinks ’twere better to say too little than too much, were 
it only a matter of taste.’’ 

“ Is it, then,” enquired Ebba, “ ever more than a ques- 
tion of taste ?’’ 

“Of simple verity as well, methinks. The Master 
spoke little of taste but much of truth ; and he deemed the 
matter important enough to expressly enjoin the use of 
simple yea and nay as most befitting human intercourse.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 449 

“Yet, He taught as well respect and obedience to the 
powers that be.” 

‘ ‘ Which are surely shown more by truthful speaking 
than by the pretentious flattery of language. Christ for- 
bade violence simply. His was the more essential resist- 
ence of the spirit — not slavish obedience, but the might of 
humility, firmer than mountains and greater than thrones. 
He accorded to Csesar his dtie only ; He was unsparing in 
his rebuke of fraud and iniquity, and his whole life was a 
protest against the vanity of outward form in place of the 
verity of inward life.” 

“ Ah, transcendent in all things ; O, His the unspeaka- 
ble riches, the overflow'ing, the immeasurable largess, the 
completed, ever blessed self-hood; and transcendent withal 
in self-renunciation ! But can divine conduct, can the 
matchless and Perfect one be a practical model for finite: 
man ?’ ’ 

“ We are bidden to be like unto Him ; and with his per- 
fect reasonableness shall he require impossibilities of us ? 
Nay, ’tis the possibility of growth — ’tis this ceaseless 
human striving for superhuman excellence that at once 
vindicates our kinship with the Father and justifies the 
hope and faith in human progress. For though blind, 
crude, and oft headstrong and wayward, such yearnings 
are but the instinctive half-conscious response to the com- 
mand ‘Be ye perfect.’ They are the saving attributes, 
the attesting, quenchless thirst for Truth which justified, 
and were quickened by the Holy Sacrifice of Jesus the 
Christ. It is in His spirit and for His cause that we 
hope to institute our simple government in this New 
World.” 

“What then, for all? And can you hope for success 
from frail and faulty, ah, from still fallen man?” 

“Yea, sooner or later; ’twere well-nigh sacrilege to 
doubt it. For the one thing that most marked Christ’s 
earthly mission was his recognition of the equality and 
brotherhood of all men, with his special favor to the poor. 
He was no respecter of persons; he offended the respect- 
able Pharisees; he turned from the haughty and high-born 
to choose his disciples from the common people, and 
through all worldly pretence he judged all men by the test 
of their daily walks in life. What is known as Quakerism 
is an humble effort to return as far as may be to the truth 
and simplicity of the early living Christianity exemplified 
by its Founder. Our society is a religious democracy. 
We revere no human creeds nor uncover to earthly rank 

29 


450 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


or power; we are held together brotherly trust, and we 
think we cannot go far astray if, while appealing to the 
highest in man, we take the Son as Exemplar and com- 
mune directly with the Father for guidance/’ 

“ Oh, der guidance vas all right of der guided don’t vill 
misguide mit demselves. I haf pig hopes pv men, but 
pigger fears dat dey vas too veak und villful yet avhile 
for selv-government a’readty.” 

“Nay, friend Gabriel, see’st thou not that a govern- 
ment of the people must be preferable to a despotism, 
whether we have little or much faith in man. If he be 
little worthy of trust ’twere surel}^ unwise to risk all upon 
a single person who may prove a weak or wicked sover- 
eign; if worthy of trust is there not more wisdom to be ex- 
pected of many selected rulers than of one chance 
despot?’’ 

“ And can you, indeed, safeE I'ely upon Christian rule 
wholly without recourse to more worldly measures?’’ 

‘ ‘ It would be too much to expect good only from so 
great an innovation upon centuries of despotic violence, 
especially with unselected incomers who have known no 
other rule. We might expect a larger measure of success 
had we to deal only with such as believe that Jesus meant 
what he said when he enjoined us to return good for evil 
and treat our enemies as friends. But we have invited all 
mankind to share our domain, and so many will come 
among us nominally professing Christ with no idea of 
practicing his precepts, that we must necessarily fail of the 
highest results we seek. But we shall go forward in love 
and faith; for we cannot but believe that an all- wise God 
set apart this broad land as an unrestricted field whereon 
a nearer approach may be made to the doing of His will 
and the promotion of His reign on earth.’’ 

“ O inspiring thought ! O exalted purpose !” said Ebba, 
“to make in this New World a very Canaan for a chosen 
people, not as a wilderness beginning their wanderings 
but as a new land of promise aiding them.” 

A strange, half-wild fervor gleamed in the speaker’s 
face, and as they had sauntered from the Assembly room 
toward the creek, she bounded down the bank and sprang 
aboard the dancing yacht awaiting them. 

“ ’Tis a fond and beautiful dream,’’ she joyously added. 

“ Aye, a dream only it may prove,” replied the Quaker, 
“ and men have had dreams before of an ideal state, 
while gifted thinkers and seers in divers ages and nations, 
especially among the ancient Greeks, have caught bright 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


451 


glimpses of the true basis of government; for Plato said 
that ‘God is Truth whereof light is but the shadow,’ 
while the same wise philosopher in his Model Republic 
and elsewhere shows great comprehension of the civic 
functions and brotherly needs and attributes of man in his 
relations both to the finite and the infinite. But withal 
there hath ever seemed a lack of care for the individual 
character, for that practical concession and love of 
man to man requisite for the peace and safety of com- 
munities. This defect we hope to remedy by the personal 
rectitude, the repression of the passions, the brotherly 
comity and practical Christianity inculcated by • Friends.' 

For, the government of one’s self is the true unit of 
aggregate self-government, of that highest human attain- 
ment, the self-government verging to non-government, of 
a free and virtuous people. If we care for the individual 
the aggregate will care for themselves, and the problem is 
simply solved. We believe that the soul of man is an 
emanation of the immortal light direct from the Father, 
through, whose guidance, with the example of the Son, 
man is destined to work out his- own salvation. It is in 
such view that governments are divine; and it is thus that 
they should not be wielded for the selfish sport or bloody 
ambition of rulers, but for the good of all people con- 
cerned in them. We earnestly hope that in this virgin 
soil, free from the corruptions and complications of 
the Old World, ‘ the seed of a nation,’ to use the words of 
William Penn, is being timely sown, from which may 
grow a governmental plant of such character as to justify 
our Holy Experiment.” And 1 sometimes e’en indulge a 
fancy that with the quitting of witch burnings and perse- 
cution of Friends and others in Massachusetts Bay, there 
may come such an extension of brotherl}^ feeling as to 
finally embrace the different colonies and all religious 
persuasions in one tolerant and enlightened People, who 
by walking in the Light of the Father may so grow in self- 
governing Christianity as to afford a guiding example for 
all mankind.” 

” Nobly generous conception,” said Ebba; ” the exiles 
to the New World teaching their persecutors in the Old; 
a veritable return ot good for evil. ‘ ’Tis a consummation 
devoutly to be wished.’” 

“Yaw, yaw, dot vas all goot in goot time; but mean- 
time ve here see goot; for yonder vait der goot frau 
und leedle von.” 


452 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Why surely; 'tis ‘ mother’ and daughter Ann come to 
the shore to meet us. Our child continues better I gladly 
infer.” 

” Oh yaw, all tings vas better as goot,” and as the 
skipper issued a succession of hurried orders, to his crew, 
he stood erect waving a breezy salutation as the yacljt 
glided to the place of landing. 

But their hopes were destined to but brief realization. 
For after going once more to attend upon the Assembly’s 
proceedings, further visits were prevented by the sudden 
relapse of the patient. For a time they were cheered with 
the apparent renewal of the marked good effects of Ebba’s 
presence. But the disease was too deep-seated for human 
remedy, and after the subsidence of acute suffering the sick 
one endured a prolonged spell of growing weakness, 
during which Ebba beguiled her, when strong enough to 
hear them, with sweet stories of the Swedish home- 
land and the fascinating Eddas of its strange Norse litera- 
ture. 

In such wise and with reading the dearer words of 
Jesus, interspersed with^an inspiring Psalm or the lifting 
grandeur of Isaiah, the volunteer nurse spent day after 
day’ with her young charge. But this was not wholly with 
the latter’s consent; for with the sweet unselfishness and 
gentle heroism peculiar to a certain mould of doomed 
youth, the child protested at times against what she 
thought Ebba’s sacrifice of herself to her mere comfort. 

Through all the sad end drew steadily near. As the 
invalid grew thinner and weaker her great solemn eyes 
became larger and brighter. Filled with a light celestial 
they seemed enlarged with the vision of a painless home 
of eternal love. Daily, hourly the frail body wasted as the 
spirit awaited the tender call of the Father. With one 
hand in her mother’s clasp she would reach forth the 
other to Ebba, repeating plaintive calls for her early friend 
of the deep ocean, who was her hovering spirit; and more 
than once as the child thought she heard the rustle of sails 
she asked if the “dear ship-lady, that blessed sea-angel had 
come to voyage with her to the brighter seas above.” 

And at last when the spirit left its wasted tenement the 
parents stood by the cold lifeless form, clasping each a 
hand of their Swedish friend between them. 

” How paltry at such times,” said Friend Pusey, “seems 
the clamor of outward differences ! Though we may 
know it not, ’tis then we feel through the surface cloakings 
of form to the inward core of the Spirit. O, that we could 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


453 


more deeply realize that love for each other bringeth us 
closer to the Father who loveth all; and for the Son, O 
blessed, indeed, in this time of need, is true faith in Him 
who said ‘Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such 
is the Kingdom of Heaven.’ ” 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

The interment was over, and Ebba, after a three weeks’ 
absence, was about to return home. Choice and frontier 
necessities alike on this occasion had increased the ordin- 
ary simplicity of Quaker funerals. A profound silence 
maintained by a few assembled friends was terminated by 
the reading of a single verse of Scripture and a few re- 
marks from Robert Wade, when the little body was com- 
mitted to the earth, — a sadly alien earth it seemed for such 
tender seed, 5"et a virgin soil sharing alike the universal 
promise of a new world and a new life. 

And now, difficult and sore enough was the tender part- 
ing of the bereaved parents from the young comforter who 
had so devotedly served them in need. It was all the 
more touching that not a word was spoken save the 
Friends’ simple farewell ! Ebba had never before realized 
the depth of emotion that could be as well concealed as 
revealed by a single uttered word; and she knew not 
whether she was more moved by the tearful eyes of the 
gently patient mother or the tremulous hand-grasp of the 
calm-faced father. 

Pensive autumn had deepened to the soberer tone of 
December, and as they sailed homeward the silent river, 
the leaden sky and the shorn woods seemed attuned to the 
hushed mood of the voyagers. Uncle Gabe’s sympathy 
was too delicate for any attempt at diverting jollity, and 
not a word was spoken until the yacht entered the Chris- 
tina; then as they faced the circling heights Ebba reached 
both her hands toward them in an instinct of loving ap- 
peal, quietly quoting, '' I will lift up mine eyes initothe hills, 
from whence cometh my helpE As they passed the island- 
er’s lone grove there was a glad exchange of glances, and 
when presently they swept in sight of the log house in its 
now fading vines by the side of the green slope and old 
fort ruins, there was a sudden outburst from PIbba: 


454 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Our home !” she cried; “no palace could be half so 
dear. O, I little knew how I long to see aunty and the 
dear children, and my pretty Zelle and old Shaggy, and — 
O, cannot we go faster?” 

“ Faster said ye? All handts dere ! Set the spanker ! 
Hoist der royal jib ! Seb und Bot und all up, up mit 
efery tings; to it men mit a vill und ve shust endt a voyage 
ov sorry clearance by cornin’ into jolly-port, hoorah !” 

And so they did; for as with quickened speed they 
neared the old fort a , childish garrison cheered them a 
boisterous welcome from its grassy mound. And when 
upon landing Ebba sustained a welcoming charge from 
the children and an affectionate assault from her rival 
pets, it was only to encounter a more formidable, if less 
demonstrative reception from aunt Signild upon reaching 
the house. 

The inauguration of home government by the first legis- 
lative assembly of the new Province, with the coveted 
union therewith of the lower territories under one and 
equal rule, was the last of the events attending the arrival 
of Penn which had kept all the riverside astir. And now 
with the completion of the usual fall work, and the ab- 
sence of the Indians upon their annual fall hunt, Christeen 
settled down to something more than its wonted quiet — a 
quiet that at least seemed the deeper both by contrast 
with the late commotion, and because, if it had any idlers 
not confirmed in lazy habits, they had found abundant 
employment with the hurrying builders and busy new'- 
comers in the Quaker town up the river. That flourishing 
place had received, since the arrival of Penn, a confir- 
mation from him of the name of “Philadelphia,” in re- 
newed hope and faith, in brotherly love. Penn had more- 
over changed its street names to those of native trees, had 
made sundry other changes, projected various improve- 
ments, and in numberless ways identified himself with the 
redoubled growth of the town and the lasting good of the 
Province. 

And so w^hile the newest colony on the Delaware was 
thus busy with the needs of the day and the concerns of 
the future, the oldest settlement on its shores was resting 
in present content. Its harvests had been secured and its 
ancient rights re-assured. It had enjoyed its apple-par- 
ings and corn-huskings. Its house-wives had made sure of 
their pickles and preserves. Its winter provision of veni- 
son and bear-meat, with plenteous nuts and wild fruits, had 
been stored aw^ay. Cheery content resounded from barn- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


455 


flail and household spinning wheel ; it exhaled from fra- 
grant herbs stored in cabin lofts, and it lurked in plethoric 
cellars, where the fuming home-punch, the warming tife 
and sundry malted home-brews awaited the indulgence of 
the many, while the favored few rejoicing in the rotten 
perfection and luxurious delirium of the medlar brandy, 
disported themselves as the hospitable aristocracy of the 
little settlement. 

And withal, Christmas was fast approaching. That 
event was the measure of Christeen’s modest future. It 
quickened the sleepy content of its old folks and it pointed 
the longings of its children. And as somehow linked with 
prospective joys what a mysterious charm lurked about the 
capacious pockets of Uncle Gabe ! What charm in child- 
ish eyes doesn’t haunt the big pockets of kindly uncles? 
Even a small boj^’s self-abnegating admiration for a big 
brother yields to the contagious fervor which connects the 
youthful memory of joys that are passed with the expecta- 
tion of favors yet to come. 

And in some wonderful manner the children connected 
Uncle Gabe’s stuffed pockets with the fireside stockings to 
be hung up on Christmas eve, and it was only a deepening 
of the fond faith which somehow coupled Uncle Gabe with 
Kris Kringle himself. The sunny face, the broad, hearty 
goodness, the kind, big fancies and bigger heart whelming 
ever in boundless love of little folk, pictured alike their 
merry friend seen daily in the flesh and the unseen visitor 
who brought them yearly happiness down the chimney ; 
and the vision remained as fadeless in their after years as 
it had been winsome in their youthful days. 

Busy enough were now the preparations for the dear old 
festival ; for it was near at hand. Ebba was determined to 
make the merry event as near as possible like the old Yule 
days of fatherland. But she began to fear that they might 
lack that first requisite, snow ; and could there be true joy 
without a white Christmas — without the pure sweet vest- 
ment of the dear, bright northland ? True, there had al- 
ready been more than one slight fall of the wet material, 
but it quickly melted into the muddy yellow earth. Nor 
could theY have the blessed church service on the early 
natal morn, for Magister Fabricius had grown so blind that 
he could scarce do more now than attend to the requisite 
christenings and burials. Nor had they here the decorat- 
ing juniper, spruce and fir trees, nor the savory lut-fisk 
or real Yule boar, without which it could scarce be ex- 
pected that the Christmas sport would go on with due 


456 


Ebb a Bofjeson. 


Norse jollity. But they could have what would answer for 
Yule candles and the Yule fire on the hearth, and she 
would teach the little ones plenty of the old Yule games, 
and Uncle Gabe had promised an abundance of cedar trees, 
their only substitute for the many varieties of old Swedish 
■evergreens, and these they would plant around the house 
and connect them with garlands, and stretch from limb to 
limb simple festoons of colored egg-shells, red sumach 
leaves and bright ribbons and toys as in the olden days. 

And above all they could strictly follow the beautiful 
home custom of fastening sheaves of grain on the home 
roof and neighboring tree-tops for attracting the birds; and 
they could look to the Christmas comfort of every animal 
b)^ providing new bedding and extra food; they could 
watch for lone and hungry wayfarers whom to fetch, in 
glad welcome round the family hearth, according to the 
universal rule of the Norse folk. And as in that north- 
land, they could strive to spread love and cheer through all 
living creation in honor of the blessed morning of the 
Christ child’s coming. 

And so it came about to more than the full measure of 
Kbba’s wishes; for the day before Christmas a gentle snow 
fall covered the dull . landscape with a thin white mantle of 
noiseless purity, which seemed a veritable benediction 
from heaven. Ever5^thing went off in better shape than 
they expected. Uncle Gabe with his one arm seemed a 
very Briareus in his many-handed readiness for all emergen- 
cies, while the ever ready Lars and the older girls seemed 
suddenly endowed with miraculous efficiency. To crown 
all the long absent Father suddenly returned from one of 
his mysterious voyages bringing many and various cunning 
presents for all; with which final good fortune the abund- 
ant satisfaction of the older folk was made manifest, while 
the wild joy of the children knew no bounds within the 
danger line; and it is probable that in all the broad New 
World there was not a happier household than that of the 
old log dwelling looking over the marshy tidal bay from 
under the circular sweep of its bordering hills. 

But all events of joy and sorrow alike have an end. 
And so Christmas was over, the Father departed and mat- 
ters resumed the old routine, — with one exception. Ebba 
had been allowing her Norse blood and nose to curl a lit- 
tle in contempt of the halting, mild-mannered winter at 
her new western home. But she learned to respect the 
climate more when with mid-January there came a spell of 
weather cold enough to freeze the Christina solidly, to 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


457 


half-coat over the Delaware and to enable Uncle Gabe to 
reach them by walking from his islet directly across creek 
and marsh at all tides. 

To be sure the sky was too blue, the sun too warm and 
high in his course and the da3"S absurdl}^ long for a well- 
behaved winter, but the cold snap evinced its capacity for 
the right thing, and certainly the production of simultane- 
ous snow enough to cover the land’s nakedness, was much 
to its credit. For Uncle Gabe was thus enabled to establish 
a winter line of direct travel over which they had constant 
connection with his home b}^ means of the promised big 
sledge, in running which, too, Sebastian Cabot had been 
promoted or degraded from a daring “sea-dog” of multi- 
tudinous quality and rank to a single cautious land lubber 
of nameless position. But what fun the^' did all have in 
hill-coasting and ice-sliding on various odd contrivances 
resulting from the combined ingenuity of the two naviga- 
tors and the ever handy Lars. On some of these sliding 
nondescripts, indeed, the younger children wore into rutted 
iciness more than one snowy track descending variously 
from the summit “parool-plaetz ’’ in the rear of the old 
fort ruins. And when the big sled which Ebba named 
the “Long Serpent” coasted down that hill, laden with 
children, fronted with the promoted Sebastian as a figure- 
head, and the Uncle Skipper in the stern as a sort of 
guarding mizzen-post there was a sight to behold and a 
mixed chorus to hear. 

But these were not the only causes for gladness at the 
colder weather; for Ebba, at least, appreciated the greater 
sense of cosiness and glad content with which they par- 
took of the simple pleasures of the fireside. After the 
various tasks and brisk sports of the day were over out of 
doors, what delight the children found in hearing their 
cousin tell all about the beautiful mytholog}' of their 
pagan ancestors, with its Saga stories and poetic Eddas of 
the remote heroic days, as well as the better heroism of 
later Swedish history. 

At the close of the wintriest days when the firewood 
was brought in, the milking done and the few animals 
snugly cared for, it was not more the wholesome hunger 
than the evening stories that caused the simple supper of 
cold meat wdth mush and milk to be devoured with such 
ravenous celerity. Then gathered the crowd of tow-heads 
about the capacious fire-place with its swinging crane and 
roaring back-log; and there, as the keen flames lapped 
brightly from under the big andirons and lighted up the 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


458 

brass-knobbed shovel and tongs which Ebba had brought 
from Sweden — there while grandma Signild knitted in the 
corner, and the flickering light and chasing shadows 
played hide-and-seek through the room the grouped listen- 
ers nightly devoured the twice and thrice-told tales with 
ever quickening eagerness. 

For a story once told would never suffice; because if it 
failed to interest on the first recital it mighty succeed on 
the second, while if successful at first it would bear 
at least one repetition. And so under the gaze of the 
youthful faces Ebba would tell how in the far-off past be- 
fore the true God and his blessed child Christ were known 
in the Northland, their heathen forefathers had worshipped 
an unreal god called Odin the Alfadir, claimed to be 
Supreme Father of all and ruler of. creation, whose wife 
was Frigga the earth, — tell of their son Thor, god of 
War and conqueror of all living things, who was armed 
with a huge hammer to destroy his enemies, — tell of the 
wise and good Baldur, the best and most beautiful 
of beings, from whom pure dazzling light issued, and who 
dwelt in the heavenly mansion Breidablik, into which 
nothing unclean could enter, — tell of the other Aesir gods 
that dwelt in Asgard, from which they built bright Bifrost 
the rainbow, as a bridge-way into heaven, — of Val- 
halla, the blest abode of the heroes who were killed 
in battle, — of the great ash tree Yggdrasil, vast rooted 
and wide branching, with its nameless means of charm- 
working awe, and so on through all the storied wonders 
and grandly simple imaginings of beautiful old paganism. 

“O tousin Ebba,” was the oft-spoken request of 
little Nils, ‘‘ves, but pease tell ’bout old Tor fishin’ in 
Bailie.” 

” About Thor fishing in the Baltic?” 

” Yes, old Tor was the biggest and trongest of all: he 
tould lick all the oder dods, tould’nt he ? And yes, tell us 
all ’bout the frost-giants and the cow that licked the hoar- 
frost and found old Buri.” 

“And tell us,” put in Gothild, ‘‘about the All-father 
giving the horses to Day and Night to drive round the 
world; and O, do tell about lovely Iduna and about 
the maidens of the ash-tree and — 

‘‘Pooh! Oh, I'd rather hear,” interposed young Eric, 
‘‘all about the eagle and the squirrel in the ash-tree; and 
then, yes, tell us about that poor good Yasa king that was 
hunted.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


459 


“ And about his son Eric and the peasant girl.” 

” And about that great fightin’ King Adolph what 
whipped them German papists. ’ ’ 

” And about that beautiful Ebba beloved,” said Brita, 
” who you was named after, and O, about — ” 

“Patience, children,” cried the overwhelmed Ebba, 
“now, one at a time.” 

And so to stop the gathering avalanche of excited 
wishes she took them in turn and began with the 
marvelous story of the god Thor fishing in the Baltic for 
the great sea serpent Jormangandur, which snapped at the 
bait of a bull’s head which Thor had torn from the bull’s 
shaggy shoulders; and so the great snake was caught 
and he lashed the sea with his tail and reddened it with 
his spewing blood and venom until Thor killed him with a 
stroke of his big hammer. 

Then she spoke of the mythic cow Audhumla, upon 
whose milk the first giant fed and from whose licking of 
stones covered with salt and hoar-frost there came, in three 
days, the completed man Buri, grandfather of Odin. Fol- 
lowing this Ebba related the charming vision of the horses 
Hrimfaxi and Skinfaxi, ridden respectively by Night and 
Day, each half way round the earth, causing its alternate 
darkness and light. 

And so in succession came the faery picture of Iduna, 
the fair goddess of youth with her basket of apples which 
give and preserve immortality to the deities — came the 
legend of the beauteous dwelling near the fountain under 
Yggdrasil, out of which go the three maidens Past, Present 
and Future, the pursuing norns who fix the life-time of all 
men — of the wise Eagle perched in the branches of the 
ash-tree with the hawk Yedurfolnir between his eyes, 
while the skirrel Ratatosk runs up and down seeking to 
cause strife between the Eagle among the leaves above and 
the evil Nidhogg gnawing the roots below. 

With such like feasts of wonders the hastening bed -time 
compelled the postponement of the tamer stories known to 
history, — stories of the father King Gustavus Yasa as 
hunted fugitive, valiant warrior and triumphant ruler— of 
the heroic victories of the grandson Adolphus over the 
papist despoilers — of the love and marriage of King Eric 
XIY with Eilla Karin the peasant girl — of the plighted 
love of the hero-king Adolphus with the beautiful Ebba 
Brahe and their sad separation, with great store of other 
matters of wondering interest to all lovers of fatherland. 


460 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


And so during the brief spell of winter, while the storms 
howled without, there was cos}' beguilement within that 
log home. It was indeed a simple picture of happy con- 
tent; and if the vain world in its ceaseless rush and fret, 
with its modern high pressure of pretentious utility, turn 
from such a picture as fit only for a picture, shall it not 
too often turn from an humble possession to an idle pur- 
suit; else reap a harvest of coupled substance and shame? 


CHAPTER LXV. 

Up rose Mr. Nicodemus Knight from uneasy slumbers. 
Uneasy slumbers rarely troubled Mr. Nicodemus Knight. 
On the contrary the slumbers of that solemn personage had 
usually the proverbial soundness of a log. 

But since Candlemas day Mr. Nicodemus Knight had 
more than once exchanged his usually sound, if sonorous 
sleep for slumber not wholly unbroken. And the cause 
was not wholly physical. He had actually been kept 
awake by brief intervals of something like thought, or 
even emotion. Indeed, before Candlemas d3.y he had 
several times awakened earlier than his usual hour in the 
morning, and in filling the wakeful and waiting time be- 
fore rising, had gone so far as to propose for himself a fore- 
cast of the future, based upon the weather of Candlemas 
day. A solid yeoman of fore-handed thrift should feel 
little else than contempt for the proverbial rubbish that 

“Just half your wood and half your hay 
Should remain on Candlemas' day.’’ 

— when not a beggarly half, but plentiful fuel and ple- 
thoric barns assured him of ampler stores. 

But Nicodemus Knight was by no means free from su- 
perstitious notions when they gibed with his prejudices or 
ministered to his hopes. And so he was quite disposed to 
credit the old tradition that 

“ If Candlemas Day be fair and clear 
There’ll be two winters in that one year.’’ 

“ Let them come,” he thought : was he not prepared for 
them ? But with his complacent pride at this comforting 
assurance he felt just a little lonely aggravation to reflect 
that he had no wife to share his plenty or appreciate his 


Ebba Borjeson. 


461 


patronage ; while such a companion would be all the more 
necessary if the winter was but half gone at Candlemas 
day. 

And thus it was that he had associated that day with re- 
newed thoughts of matrimony, until he had found himself 
gradually hingeing his fate upon its weather traditions. If 
the ground hog should find clear enough weather to see 
his own shadow on Candlemas day and so should seek his 
comfort by going back to his hole for six more cold weeks, 
Nicodemus Knight, with equal urgency, was more than 
ever bent upon finding a wife to help out the winter* If 
not, he must trudge singly on and await the future as best 
he could : and such drear alternative now fixed his pur- 
pose. 

But there was the not unusual difficulty that on the trial 
day the light clouds and hazy sky produced so neutral an 
atmosphere that it was quite impossible to say whether 
shadows were cast by the ground hog or anything else. 
If that deeply sagacious animal was able to decide the 
question, Nicodemus Knight certainly was, not. And so- 
the burly directness of the man had been yielding to a sort 
of morbid irresolution as foreign to his nature as it was 
distressing to his whim. He could neither take his fate in 
his hands as became a true Briton, nor feel content to give 
the matter up. 

But at length Nicodemus was himself again. When he. 
arose on this particular morning his face was big with pur- 
pose, its set lines bespoke resolution. It was now near the 
end of March. He had been dawdling away the time and 
he would stand it no longer. If the leisure of winter was 
nearly over the work of Spring was soon to begin, and in 
this if not so ornamental, a wife was at least as useful. He 
would delay no longer. 

As the reader has seen, Nicodemus Knight had not been 
successful in his matrimonial ventures. But Nicodemus 
knew no discouragement. It was not admissable in his. 
simple make-up. His confidence in himself was sublime, 
if it was a little blind. In his intensely practical character 
there was no room for sentimental subtleties, and in his 
latest suit the one thing he clearly comprehended was 
that he hadn’t married Ebba Borjeson. With the same 
practical limitations he saw also that his rival hadn’t mar- 
ried her, but had gone away and left the field to himselL 
These simple facts were all that Nicodemus Knight cared 
to know. Upon them he re-arranged his ideas and re- 
grounded his confidence. 


462 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


And to breeding confidence everything lends aid — bright 
hope of the future and fond niemor}' of even an unlucky 
past. Among such memories of Nicodemus Knight were 
those of the ancient custom of “ Going-a-Mothering,” 
prevalent in his native Shropshire, England, where he had 
lived only during the first half dozen years of his life. 
His ideas of the custom were so vague that to him love- 
making, the drinking of sweet frumenty and the carrying of 
simnel cake, were in some mysterious way inextricably 
bound up not only with the profitable season of Mid^Lent, 
but with sure fortune to the happy lover who could bring 
the practices simultaneouslv together. 

He would go at once to dame Signild. It was not clear 
just what part either that matron or himself was to pla}^ in 
the matter; but whelming hope in its blinding glow de- 
spises clearness: it delights in fusing incongruities and per- 
forming miracles. All that Nicodemus Knight distinctly 
felt was that this morning of “ Mothering Sunda}" ” was 
an all important time of tateful action for him. Whether 
it was that he indulged some fondly confused anticipations 
of relationship with dame Signild, or meant simply to en- 
list her powerful aid in his favor, it is certain that upon the 
completion of his elaborate toilet he betook himself to the 
domicile of that worthy personage with more than his 
usual strength and length of stride. 

It will be inferred, too, that such toilet efforts on this 
occasion went something beyond prior achievements in 
this man’s peculiar st>de. But the result must not be in 
any way associated with visions of the modern dude. 
That attenuated exquisite shows simply a single transitor}^ 
fashion; Nicodemus Knight, in his variegated costume, ex- 
emplified man}^ modes of nianj^ generations, and in his ar- 
ray of faded fineries and discarded styles, was fearfully 
and wonderfully apparelled. 

Dame Signild knew little more than her approaching 
visitor of the ancient custom of “ Going-a-mothering,” as 
the knowledge of it was never widely extended. But with 
the first sight of Nicodemus Knight marching in full ar- 
ray, she knew that a crisis of some kind was impending. 
And when, with lusty zeal, the man blurted out his errand, 
the old dame quaked with ill-concealed merriment. The 
visitor took no offence; for with little sense of humor him- 
self, he was content to be the cause of humor in others; 
especially when, as in this case, he thought his purpose 
thereb}" forwarded. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


463 


“ And so 3^e’d go-a-motherin’ to me, Nic Knight. ’Tain’t 
the first time a booby calf bellowed for a false mother. 
But were it a true one, where be the j^ellow-crusted pie, 
and where the lassie with her simnel cake to present ye 
withal?” 

” Lord forbid, good dame ! Sich things was fetched 
home, ye know, only by the young folk as was out to ser- 
vice ! and think ye, my kinsfolk was e’er brung down to 
that ? The Knights, I vouch, was as good yeomen stock 
as was e’er in England,” 

” Stock o’ cattle or humans, odds not. If ye take part 
of these odd customs ye must take ’em all. What sense 
be there in any of it if ye don’t fetch presents, or least- 
ways the simnel cake. What meaneth else Herrick’s old 
song. 


‘ I’ll for thee a simnel bring 
Gainst thou go-a-mothering; 

So that when she ble.sses thee. 

Half that blessing thou’ltgive me’?” 

But ’twas just like your impudence, Nic, to come with- 
out askin’, just as ’twas like your stinginess to come with- 
out offerings. Why, I’ll be sworn, ye’ve had not e’en a 
drink o’ frumenty. Well, well, Nic, sit ye down, and I’ll 
make a bowl o’ that, and a brave sup we’ll have whate’er 
betide, be it neighborly luck or come bonn}^ bride.” 

Mr. Knight did as he was bidden. There had always 
been an odd sort of friendliness between the two, the man 
having unbounded respect for the shrewd good sense of 
the woman, while she could not be seriously unfriendly 
toward one from whom she derived so much amusement. 
They drank together. 

“And now, Nic,” resumed the dame, “what in good 
sooth be your ideas? Jist say out what ye’d have me do.” 

“Ah now,” said the visitor in a confiding tone, as he 
drew nearer his seat, “nobody could do me sich a good 
turn as dame Signild if she would; if she’d be so kind and 
obleegin’ as to favor a body and insinooate a word to 
help — ” 

“Help! Tush, man, who needs less help than strong 
body and bold face backed by all the confidence of the 
evil one ?” 

“ True with only a man to face. But Miss Borjeson is 
a lady of sich polished quality and high edication, and 
speaks sich onusual words, and says ’em so quick and 
easy like that I — I — ain’t always sure as I rightly under- 


464 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


stand her. Then I hain’t got the knowin’ ways o’ high- 
bred folks; no more the influence o’ big names, old famil- 
ies and sich.” 

“Nic Knight! nowhere on this blessed earth ought 
every tub to stand on its own bottom more than in this broad 
land with so much room for it to stand on. Speak for 
yourself, man; ye’ve tongue enough, I vow, howe’er it be 
with your wits.” 

“ But then agin I ain’t — to be honest now — I really 
ain’t, ye know, wi’ all my gains — I ain’t so overly good- 
lookin’.” 

“Mercy o’ me! and don’t the thickest clay-brains 
know that though good looks may do for a woman to 
count on it’s a mighty poor make-.sliift for a man; and for 
the matter o’ that it don’t hurt a woman to have some 
sense as well as beauty, albeit by the same token neither 
need a man be a scare-crow to be sensible. * But for what 
ye are and how ye’ll fare look to what ye’ll do and what 
ye’ll dare; for here comes my niece.” 

Dame Signild was gone and Ebba stood quietly in her 
place before Mr. Knight fairly comprehended what had oc- 
curred. And the new-comer was equally unprepared for the 
emergency; for she had entered the front door unsuspect- 
ingly, while her aunt disappeared through the garden- 
door in the rear. Thus suddenly confronted with each 
other the two were so overcome with surprise that for a 
moment neither spoke. Then Ebba with a mute courtesy 
moved quietly into a seat and turned with an easy remark 
touching the weather. But that unfailing topic, as well as 
the neighborhood health, the progress of Lent and Easter 
with the familiar gossip so invaluable in such emergencies, 
were all exhausted before Mr. Knight found the free use 
of his tongue. Sitting bolt upright he twirled his thumbs, 
adjusted his immense collar, scanned his knee-breeches 
and cleared his throat in the effort to loosen his speech. 
In vain. It was like the movement of a balky horse in 
over-tightened harness. 

“Miss Borjeson,” he said desperately, after divers 
futile efforts, “ I’ve got somethin’ perticelar to say to ye; 
that is, I’ve jist called in this mornin’ to — to — say that — 
that — ” 

Again he balked, and mouthing his tobacco; made 
liquid threatenings of dame Signild’s shining floor, while 
Ebba returned a smile of mild enquiry. Mr. Knight was 
undergoing a fearful struggle; but it was only for position. 
His difficulty was to begin. Of the end he did not permit 


Ebb a Borjeson. ^65 

a moment’s doubt, “ perwidin’ she could be fetched to the 
pint.” 

“Miss Borjeson,” he resumed, “I’ve been a layin’ 
awake o’ nights a-thinkin’ and a-thinkin’ till I can’t stand 
it no longer; and so I jist thought this motherin’ Sunday 
o’ mid-Lent would be a good time to call down and look 
arter that bit o’ unsettled business betwixt you and me.” 

‘ ‘ Unsettled business T queried Ebba in unaffected sur- 
prise. 

“Yes, I hope ye don’t disremember that little matter 
we was speakin’ about on nuttin’ day when we was inter- 
rupted last fall. I thought I’d jist let you bide your time 
a spell and so I hain’t hurried ye; but the time’s now come 
fur a settlement.” 

“But I’ll save your time and trouble, Mr. Knight. 
There’s some mistake in this matter; there is nothing to be 
settled between us, and you will please not speak to me in 
this way.” 

“ O, I know young ladies, like young colts, must be 
frisky at fust. ’Tis their natur to act contrari-wise; the^^ 
always do. And ’tain’t no more’n modest and right in 
them to do so. It on}^ shows good blood and high spirit; 
and if ye want more time forbreakin’ in like, why you kin 
have — ” 

“ Now and here take your answer, Mr. Knight. I can- 
not listen to such language,” and Ebba rose and moved 
toward the door. 

“ But indeed. Miss, ye must,” and as he spoke he lifted 
his tall form and moved as if to intercept her retreat. 
She hesitated a moment and then with a face of pale firm- 
ness resumed her seat. 

“ I have took occasion afore. Miss Borjeson, to let 
ye know who Nicodemus Knight is — to tell ye of his hus- 
bandry and of his fine stock. I have took — ” 

“ O yes, Mr. Knight,” interrupted the compelled lis- 
tener, suddenly remembering how such diversion had before 
served her, “ pray tell me about your beautiful animals 
and your fine plantation.” 

But Mr. Knight also remembered that he had once been 
led astray by this device, and was resolved not to be 
again. Besides he had at last struck his oratorical gait 
and must keep in unbroken swing to nurse his inspira- 
tion. 

“ As I was a-sayin’ to dame Signild afore ye come, I 
don’t pretend to no perticerler birth nor blood. ’Tain’t so 
much what Nicodemus Knight is, as what he’s got that 

30 


466# 


Ebba Borjeson. 


makes the odds betwixt him and the common herd. 
Nicodemus Knight is no sham or shader. He is a 
man o’ substance. Nicodemus Knight has got one 
o’ the best plantations and the best blooded herd, and 
the best — ” 

And so went on the cumulative exhibit of the man’s 
position and possessions. The wordy avalanche had 
fairly started and, gathering volume in its plunge, it found 
a resting place only with the sentence, “ all o’ which Nico- 
demus Knight lays at the feet o’ Miss Bbba Borjeson, and 
offers to make her his wife.’’ 

“Which offer Miss Ebba Borjeson respectfully de- 
clines.” 

“ What ! heard ye rightly what I’vfe offered ? Know 3^e 
what you’re doin’ ?’’ 

Ebba nodded a silent assent. 

“ Did’nt Rupert Fairfield go back to Virginia without 
marryin’ 3"e ? and if he had' nt gone ye can’t tell if he’ll 
git much till he’s got it. Ye don’t mean to say you’re 
lookin’ for bigger things frum him? Ye don’t mean 
to— to— ’’ 

‘ ‘ I mean only to express my regret that I have been 
forced to this point, — to acknowledge the honor you. have 
done me, and to beg that you will not further persist in 
what can never be.’’ 

If a stroke of lightning had pierced the brain of Nicode- 
mus Knight he could hardly have been more paralyzed. 
His tough hide had at last been perforated and something 
like sensibilities actually reached. With a bent and 
averted stare he long sat in speechless stupor, and when 
with a pitying impulse Ebba as she left the room softly 
pressed her hand upon his bowed head, the poor man 
seemed hardly more conscious of the gentle act than of the 
kindly feeling that prompted it. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


467 


CHAPTER LXVI. 

Winter was gone. The snow no longer brightened hill- 
side openings among the brown woods. Even before thick 
ice vanished in early February Ebbahad seen early crocus 
in the garden and found snow-drops under her sunny win- 
dow. Robins and blue birds having ventured back pre- 
maturely, shivered with the usual penalty of being in ad- 
vance of the times. But lagging March at length took 
surly leave, and April smiled with new promise of coming 
spring. 

And now, daily multiplied the signs of the hastening 
season. For weeks flocks of wild pigeons had been dark- 
ening the sky, followed by more incessant movements of 
wild ducks and the marshaled columns of screaming 
wild geese taking their lofty flight northward. The caw- 
ing crow, with sham dignity, took daily tours of inspection, 
and conventions of noisy blackbirds, in planning the sea- 
son’s campaign, made bedlam of neighboring tree-tops. 
To these the saucy blue jay shrieked back his defiant re- 
joicings, lowing cows answered impatiently from imprison- 
ing barn yards, the chorus of frogs swelled in more plain- 
tive volume, the song sparrow and meadow lark led back 
less hopeful companions from winter retreats, the obstrep- 
erous wren chattered with noisier confidence; and while 
all these voiced gladsome things above, creeping things be- 
low stirred in noiseless re-awakenings. All things indeed 
joined in nature’s glad rejuvenation. Only the undemon- 
strative people were slow in voiceful greetings to the dear 
vernal dame. 

But though slow of movement and balking in ready 
speech, these descendants of Swedish and Dutch immi- 
grants with their slight English leaven, had their own 
quiet delight at the return of the beautiful spring. They 
were glad of the more abounding sunshine and warm 
April showers; of the low south winds and blossoming 
peach trees fraught with practical promise; and they wel- 
comed the flowering meadows, the cries of the birds, the 
odors of garlicky pastures and the wafted scents of freshly 
turned furrows, with all the comminglings of budding and 
grassy fragrance forming the very breath of spring. 


468 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


And now the coming of Easter Sunday seems to crown 
all, as symbolizing both nature’s and man’s happy resur- 
rection. And a lovely day it is. The balmy exhalations 
from the Delaware seem a very incense. And never did 
the noble river glide in sweeter tranquility — never a 
benign sky arch itself in tenderer blue. In happy unison 
withal seem the fast-arriving people. Their glad hearts 
like the season, are too spring-like for ill omens. Croakers 
are discredited, and small scandals silenced. The blessed 
day’s promise seems already fulfilled — its seed time and 
harvest become one. For the people’s hearts seem to 
have no place for aught but young hope and neighborly 
kindness. Even Job Blinckenheim, with whatever motive, 
has words of praise for the heretical Quakers he had 
formerly berated, the spinster gossips cast kindly glances 
upon the Swedish girl they had scandalized, while Nico- 
demus Knight, wearing for once a crestfallen countenance, 
so far catches the glad contagion that he actually rhapso- 
dizes over the beauty of the fresh “ voyelets ” and the 
sweet promise of the “cornin’ laylocks.’’ 

Ebba had looked forward with vague joy to the event. 
She had secretly draped the pulpit and windows with the 
trailing arbutus and early leafing honey-suckle, inter- 
twined with ferns, laurel leaves and the slender branches of 
the weeping willow; and with a glad impulse she appeared 
now for the first time in a dress of light gray silk simply 
trimmed and clasped at the throat with treasured jewelry, 
relics left by the Generalskan of her olden court life; and she 
wore a single white rose encircled by her back hair. The con- 
gregation enter the church; their surprised glances wander 
from the fragrant decorations to the lady guessed as their 
author, and in her pale cheeks come confessing color. 
And now all join in the beautiful services. The gladness 
of their hearts supplied what the humble edifice lacked of 
the sumptuous appointments for modern worship; and 
when the people left its log walls a common joy seemed to 
have attuned their hearts to kindly content. 

Yet one of our family seemed distraught with something 
verging to brooding discontent. And of all persons, 
to think that this one should be the good and usually jolly 
Uncle Gabe ! The kindly skipper had indeed maintained 
such thoughtful silence that Ebba was not the only one to 
cast looks of loving concern toward him. As they 
presently touched the landing she was about to follow 
aunt Signild and the children to the house when the 
islander signalled her to remain. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


469 


“I yoiild shpeak mit you/' he said. Kbba looked 
enquiringly and awaited his further speech. But he 
hesitated and turned his eyes toward and from her as if 
struggling between dread and longing to confide some- 
thing. 

“ ‘ Der fader’ vas oxpected — ” he at length burst out, 
“ at least I oxpected him to come home for Easter Sun- 
day. He no come. Know 3'e vhy; has any message 
gome from him ?” 

Ebba looked her surprise as she gave a negative reply 
to both queries. A. cloud came over the Dutchman’s open 
brow. 

“ ‘ Der fader’ once haf zome connection mit dis oldt Job 
Blinckenheim, shust vhat I shust know not. But Job vas 
badt man und hypocritical, pious and piratical, shust vill 
deal mit smugglers or vorse: dere vas dark — dere vas 
myster}^ — ‘der fader’ — I — I — ” the speaker gazed afar 
in busy reverie: “Oh, I hobe — I shust vill belief dot 
efery tings shall come shust out goot den aftervhile some- 
dime a’readty. Und — O yaw, dot dtrip to Skilpadle — vas 
all right, eh ? Den I comes for \'e on Vednesday’s after- 
noon flood, hooraw !’’ 

Saying which. Uncle Gabe helped Ebba from the yacht 
and sweeping about bore a wav for his home. 

The islander’s last words referred to a visit to the mill 
at Turtle Falls and a little excursion up Shelpot creek to 
the magic springs near Okowela’s home, which had long 
been talked of. Upon such trip, after sailing directly over 
the submerged marshes, they wound among rocky knolls 
and lofty forest trees forming a picturesque vestibule to 
the hills bej^orid, and after tarr^ung at the mill followed 
up the creek’s steepj^ plunge. 

“ Was ever saucier little pagan?” queried Ebba; “the 
frothy madman in his petty rage assumes the airs of a 
mountain torrent; all the more his foamy brightness, his 
boisterous charm ! And these ferns, these spring flowers, 
these mossy paths; ’tis a very bower of enchantment ! O, 
I will — I must — ” but further words were lost as the 
speaker in playful banter bounded over the rocks and dis- 
appeared in the bushes beyond. Her continued absence 
aroused her companion from a reverie, and he was begin- 
ning to grow anxious, when from behind a tree at his side 
there suddenly peered a hot girlish face wreathed in 
roguish penitence. 

“ ’Tvas shust a badt schild, zhe can be bunished only 
mit der magic vaters; to dem go ve now shtraight avay.” 


470 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Drinking at the ice-cold springs, they returned to the 
mill for their finished grist and wound homeward within 
the creek's channels. 

Daylight was slowly fading as the islander, after landing 
Ebba at the head of the Black Cat, tided down to his 
home. To meet the evening chilliness he drew his pipe 
and tinder box, and soon buried himself in a comforting 
cloud of tobacco smoke. Under its lulling spell a sweet 
vision flitted before him — a haunting vision of the winsome 
girl, the gracious lady from whom he had just parted. He 
marveled not that Okowela, that Nic Knight, that Rupert 
Fairfield were captivated. How could the}^ help them- 
selves; yet how dare they hope ? 

In such a reverie the skipper neared his lonely islet; its 
boat-building sounds were silenced ; a depressing hush was 
linked with the deepening twilight, and only the choral 
frogs and low wash of the tide were heard. His thoughts 
wandered sadly to the receding past; and sadder was his 
sense of the coupled night and silence engulfing his wife- 
less home. For a moment the poor man yielded to the 
dreamy retrospection whereof life’s enigma and tender 
suggestions of the ‘ ‘ might have been ’ ’ are the pathetic 
burden. Then he indignantly roused himself. 

“ Vhat, ho! Vhimpering at your lot? Vhy Gabriel, 
ye moonling ! Ye tankless caitiff ! Don’t you vas ashamed 
mit yourself?” 

And then with self-chiding shake of the head, the 
Dutchman puffed at his pipe with redoubled vigor, — puffed 
such a blinding cloud of smoke, indeed, that for the mo- 
ment, with the joint blurring of sight and thought, he was 
puzzled at what he seemed to see, and yet could not be- 
lieve. Was that a light at his cabin window? Brushing 
away the smoke he gazed again. All seemed dark. No; 
there! it dimly flickers again. ‘‘ Vhat dis can mean?” he 
demanded of himself in half-dazed wonder. Then as his 
yacht touched her mooring place Gabriel sprang ashore 
and hurried to his house. Through the window as he ap- 
proached he saw a moving figure in the dim light. He 
opened the door. 

‘'Uncle Gabe !” “Vhy, ye ghostly Rupe !” With 
which exchanged salutations the two men clasped in 
fonder greetings. 

” Velcome, mein poy, efer velcome ! efen of ye vas an 
house-breaker und a night-prowler und — ” 

“ Worse still, a pitiable starveling ! a savage desperado, 
a wandering hyena or ravenous nondescript with an ostrich. 


Ebba Borjeson. 471 

stomach ! — in short I’m as hungry as a she-bear and her 
starving cubs.” 

” Yas dot all? Den ve see,” and going to a door the 
host called to the housekeeper adjacent to hurry up supper 
and ordered Sebastian Cabot to 

Haste to der rescue mit a graplin’ snack und touble 
mug ov der best home-brew, vhich,” he added, turning to 
his guest, ‘ ‘ vill mebpe stale off famine und vet up for 
supper like der Svedish smorgas. Und now, Rupe, dtell 
me vhen und vhere gome ye so, und how ye vas all der 
vhile, eh?” 

” 0 , I came an hour ago and delved among your 
books here till my mind was sated and my body famished, 
and I was hunting for something to eat when you came. 
For my luncheon was capsized en route ; and, as I could 
find only empty ordinaries, I felt myself like Falstaff, 
sorely in need of some one that could steal well, for with- 
out such a helper I was verily like that hero — most ‘ hei- 
nously unprovided.’ ” 

“Veil, now, dot vas yust, methinks, vhere a famished 
pilgrim from Virginia or anyvhere might veil nigh subsist 
by ‘ wapen reeht. ’ ’ ’ 

“By right of arms, eh? Ha, ha! Well, now, if my 
scrupulous host justifies a necessitous resort to club law 
he will scarce blame me, perchance, for feeling with Or- 
lando in As You Like It, that ‘ The thorny point of bare 
distress hath ta’en from me the show of smooth civil- 
ity.’ ” 

” Veil, ve shust restore it now, for here gomes der skir- 
mish ammunition und ve brepare for full engagshment.” 

And with the ensuing popping of bottles and hurry of 
action the luncheon and its devourers suggested the idea 
of an opening skirmish to a heavier contest. 

” And now,” queried the guest, smacking his lips after a 
warming draft and a few mouthsful, ” how are all our good 
friends : how is everybody ?” 

” O, tank you, Rupe, she vas quide veil ; she’s yust der 
same.” 

” She? whom mean you? I enquired for everybody?” 

“Yah, efery body und all der vorld she vas to you. 
Und I vas a pig dolt of I don’t know who ye vas meanin’ — 
und so here’s your goot healt, und Gott bless ye both, 
veder ye vas hereafter one or two.” 

Rupert Fairfield blushed to his temples. It was the first 
time his friend had coupled them openly together since he 
had become absorbed in Ebba. For once his ready 


472 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


speech, his elegant self-possession deserted him. Essay- 
ing a reply of easy unconcern, he stammered and coughed 
and tried to recover himself, while his companion, as if 
musing to himself, quietly continued — 

“ Und ’twas veil to return zo much earlier as usual, for 
zo was much time gainet — many brecious schances to look 
upon her— to be near der gentle child dot haf der vildest, 
bootifullest soul as nefer — ’ ’ 

Suddenly he checked himself without looking toward 
Rupert, whose wondering eyes ranged uneasily at the un- 
usual words and manner of his friend. Continuing thus 
his fixed and far-away gaze, the speaker presently re- 
sumed, — 

“Ah, Rupe, metinks she haf such quiet depths ov un- 
fanned fires as must shame der surface sparkle ov pretend- 
ers — metinks she dwells in dot shrined core ov being 
vhere der soul is alone mitt Gott. Ov such as she, me- 
tinks, heroes und martyrs be made : und O, I shust be- 
lief she could reply mit der captain in Beamont’s Sea 
Voyage, to dot Juletta who taunts dem : 

‘ Why slaves ’tis in our power to hang ye. 

Very likely, 

’Tis in our powers then to be hanged and scorn ye.’ 

More as Juliet to Romeo dis girl’s true lover can say 

‘ Der more I gif to thee 
Der more vas left to me.’ 

Und vhen he got it still vorser a’ready, der lover might 
shust sing mit old English Dekker, 

‘ No my dear lady I could weary stars, 

And force the wakeful moon to lose her eyes. 

By my late watching, but to wait on you. 

When at your prayers you kneel before the altar, 
Methinks I’m singing with some choir in heaven. 

So blest I hold me in your company.’ 

“ But oxcuse me, Rupe; shame to play der moping dolt 
und forget to be host. Here, at last, comes der meaty 
comforts. Now, vhat ye drink to gif dem easeful com- 
pany ? At dis late hour ve hardly take der meridian punch 
yhich der Svedes drink at noon-day; manathan, our favor- 
ite island drink ov small beer and sugared rum, vas 
goot enough for smorgas; und so, metinks, vas der home 
flipp und der rum-cider Sampson, und der heated beer-rum 
Hatt-Patt , und der Svede-made Stllibnb\ der persimmon und 
Spruce beer und home-meads vas goot in der vay; der ap- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


473 


pie und peach Still-hquor vas better; but for der grand 
honest home-feast sacred to re-union ov true friends, dere 
vas noting to match der genuine Medlar brandy. Vhat 
ye say, Rupe ?” 

The guest bowed his assent while modestly declining a 
choice, which he intimated might encroach upon the pre- 
rogative of the host. 

“Shust so; much tanks for helping me out, Rupe; ve or- 
ders dem all, und takes vat ve likes;” and accordingly 
in prompt obedience to the captain’s commands, Sebastian 
Cabot bustled in and out of the room with an urgency of 
grunts and motion as if leading a whole ship’s crew in 
transferring a cargo of liquors from the hold to the dining 
cabin of a stately vessel. 

Then the two friends, taking each. other by the hand, 
assumed a reverent attitude and stood a moment in silent 
grace before taking their seats. This was a custom the 
host had borrowed from the Swedes, in the strict obser- 
vance of which he always took a sober plea.sure. For 
^ome minutes after beginning their meal, guest and host 
kept a busy silence, broken only by the munching of food 
and clatter of dishes. Then as they varied their eating 
with more frequent potations, speech found ready vent. 

” I shust vas tinking,” said the host, “ov dose oldt 
times ve haf. It is now dwenty years since Lord Balti- 
more’s son vas entertained here at Altona und New Am- 
stel, mit a suite ov dwenty-seven persons; und vhat you 
tink, when — ” 

” Ah, thank you. Uncle Gabe,” interrupted Rupert, as 
the host reached to refill his cup of medlar brandy, ” yes, 
if you please, I will take a little more of what you justly 
praise.” 

“Und vhat you tink,” resumed the host, smacking his 
lips over another pull at his favorite medlar, ” vhen our 
Director Beekman find der vas not a draught ov French 
vine to be had on all dis riv^er to treat der expected visi- 
tors, vould ye belief der tasteless flouting Jack no tink such 
beverage as dis fit for der nobleman, but besought Stuyve- 
sant to send from Manhattan der fashionable French vine 
fer der distinguished guest, shust as if dis medlar out- 
worth’s not der viney juice ov any land. Vhy, it vill soften 
a heart ov grizzle und make loving blood-throbs under der 
ribs ov death; it vill make ov puling milk-sop a virile lover; 
tind it make dot lover feel mit Antony and Cleopatra dot 
There’s beggary in the love that can be reckon’d.’ 


474 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Bravo ! Uncle Gabe; and amen ! say all true votaries 
of the liquor and the ladies. Generously coupled are 
they, too, when the fiery drink and the faery sex befuddle 
a lover in mingled glow.” 

” Yaw, dot vas so; und more as so, for eider lover can 
say ov de oder — 

‘So potently would I o’er sway his state 
That he should be my fool, and I his fate,’ 

— as said Rosaline in Love' s Labor’s Lost — albeit der labors 
vas nefer altogeder lost. Und I betink me vhen mein 
Rupe leave a fair one here und go to Virginia he mepbe 
felt as Antony for his Cleopatra, dot 

‘Our separation so abides and flies 
That thou residing here, go’st with me. 

And I, hence fleeing, here remain with thee.’ 

Rupert reeled with the deftly turned thrust. He had 
never seen his good friend in just such a mood before, and 
as he had watched him gradually warming with drink he 
had been kept in suspense with a strangely mixed feeling 
of fear and hope of further allusion to his relations with 
Ebba. Rallying himself in defence he happily recalled 
timely quotations. 

“ ‘O ! And I forsooth in love! I, that have been love’s whip 
A very beadle to an amorous sigh !’ 

Think you that a Shaksperean Biron of a gallant could 
be so surely shot by 

‘ This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, 

This senior-junior, giant-dwarf Dan-Cupid? ’ 

Think you this? Then heap your ‘ three-piled hyperboles’ 
in jovial' derision; do your worst, and ‘ I go woolward for 
penance.’ ” 

But with all his mustered banter Rupert Fairfield was 
ill at ease. Struggle as he would he could not regain his 
coveted repose of manner. Embarrassed with the vague 
suspicion that Uncle Gabe had in some way discovered 
that secret of his attitude to Ebba Borjeson which remained 
an unsolved problem to himself, his cheeks burned with 
unwonted self-consciousness. He felt the kindly quizzing 
of his host’s eyes upon him. He winced under their sym- 
pathetic scrutiny; he coughed and fidgeted, and at length 
in very desperation sought relief in a sudden change of 
subject. Rising from his seat he asked, 

“What have you been reading lately, Uncle Gabe? 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


475 


When I came last year you were busy with the Knight of 
La Mancha and his adventures. What new hero or deeper 
subject have you since found?” 

For a moment the host continued his musing without 
heeding the question. Then with a quick exclamation of 
“ Oxcuse me,” he stepped aside and returned with pipes 
and tobacco. 

” Take some ov dis und sit ye down, Rupe. Ve shust 
settle our prains und clear der vay mit smoke, und den I 
tells ye.” 

A few moments of preparatory puffing so effectually 
” cleared the way ” that if their brains were not “settled” 
there was little clarifying or settling virtue in their cheer, 
since the more the couple heard the less they saw of each 
other in the dense smoke. 

“ Vhat deep matter und new hero I haf found, eh? Veil 
den, I haf been to Hell mit Dante und saw der duyvil und 
his imps. Maype dey vas deep, if not new. Den I tinks 
mayhap life’s average journey tends thitherward mit its 
patched und stained travelling garments full of dread ques- 
tionings, as in Richard II — 

‘And must I ravel out 
My weaved-up follies ?’ 

— Und den I goes to Montaigne mit his self-poise of Doric 
calm und strength, showing us how to be abofe der ter- 
moil alike ov hope und despair; und from him ve may sum 
up dot all sin vas but in excess und misdirection — in abuse 
not use ov vhatefer All-Fader gif us; und vhile he teach 
dot mankint may be ennobled by heroic deeds und striving 
for vhat is vise und tender und true, yet ve see dot death 
may be better than all, for it vas but der beginning ov a 
better life. But dis life ! Howefer better ve may make it, 
nefer vas pigger foll}^ than der lamentation for dot death 
vhich ends lamentation.” 

“ Deeply solemn thoughts from a cheery soul ! Why, 
Uncle Gabe, why should one who is so sunny to others 
take gloom to himself ?’ ’ 

“ Somedimes it must be so a’readty; for der brighter der 
sun der deeper his shadows; und so der eternal balance ov 
vhat ve call good und evil, joy und sorrow. Und vhen ve 
ask mit Marston — 

‘ Can man by no means creep out of himself 
And leave the slough of viperous grief behind ?’ 

— ve yust shall say no! he must face, not flee from der 
enemy; for so do brafe souls buffet mitGott der dtroublous 


476 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


sea ov doubt und peril — struggle to der glorious end, leav- 
ing weaklings to slink under der sheltered shore pleasuring 
away der goalless lives. Und so der vas after all some- 
ding better as der solace ov Marston to 

‘ Make a firm stand; here rests the hope ov all, — 

Lower than hell there’s no depth to fall.’ 

‘ ‘ But read ye nothing lighter than upon these serious 
themes ?” 

“ Yell, I get some fun mit Aristophanes, und I vas scarce 
true Dutchman of I no read Erasmus. Und so I shust take 
a taste ov his assault on Popery und all pompous cere- 
monials und priestly rites as unscriptural und contrary to 
der laws ov Gott und nature; und den I gladly turn to Ford 
und Marston und Marlowe und Dekker und Webster und 
all der lusty play-makers ov der times of Queen Bess; und 
vhile I find some goot tings dere, I see dot so more as dey 
get der spirit und copy der vork from Shaksbere der more 
dey vas vorth reading.” 

” O, have you heard of anew book by one Samuel But- 
ler, called Hudibras ? It was partly printed some twenty 
years ago, but Uncle Dick has lately received a copy of all 
its three parts and all winter he has kept our Virginia royal- 
ists roaring with delight by reading aloud the vigorous 
thrusts at the canting Roundheads, that hypocritical crew 

‘Of errant saints whom all men grant 
To be the true Church Militant, 

Such as do build their faith upon 
• The holy text of pike and gun. 

Decide all controversies by 
Infallible artillery. 

And prove their doctrine orthodox 
By apostolic blows and knocks.’ ” 

” Cutting rhyme dot; but from vhat leedle I hear of dis 
Butler metinks he vas leedle more- as a smart scold, vent- 
ing his spleen at such men as tried to find deir vay oudt ov 
der torpid formalism ov der English schurch. Blenty men 
find fault mit all vays out ov a great wrong mitout show- 
ing a better. Dose narrow Puritans vas often crazy mit 
dere small mercy und pig theology, but I rader stand mit 
dem than among der bloated und haughty professors ov 
religion who scorn its humble practice.” 

Then, perchance, you would be better suited with the 
Pilgrim' s Progress, that other new book that is making 
such noise in the world.” 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


477 


“ O, I haf heart ov dot pilgrim as had so leedle home 
devotion dot he run avay from his vife und schildren to 
get a place by himself in heaven; und I like better der 
sacrificial heroism ov Sir Philip Sidney, who vhen dying 
ov thirst gif up der cooling vater to der dying soldier, 
mitout preachin’ about it. Dis Bunyan’s Christian found 
much troubles and crooked vays, but dey mostly con- 
cerned der theologies und dogmas made by professors, not 
der practice taught by Christ, vhich vas so simple as a 
schild can follow. Vhat a pother dese vordy writers 
make ov it ! Vheder it vas der early Faders puilding up 
pig theology or later authors of prose or poetry, dey so fret 
und strain und svell dot ve ask as in Job, ‘ Should a wuse 
man utter vain knowledge and fill his belly mit der East 
vind.’ Such unprofitable talk, as Job calls it, vas, 
metinks, more vordy perspiration than inspirations und der 
book ov dis same Job und der Hamlet ov Shaksbeare be der 
two grand epitomes of life: for they dive deeper to 
its core, reach vider in its scope und teach more ov its 
graver lessons than all oders togeder. Und so, ’tis der 
Bible und Shakspere say all dot vas vorth saying ov der 
mystic upshot ov tings. Dey speak out der last speakable 
vord and have done mit it. vhile all oders keep fretting us 
mit der gabble. But I fear I fret mein guest mit gabble 
vhen he vas tired mit travel, und so ye’ll say out, Rupe, 
vhen you would seek your bunk.” 

The guest arose with both a protesting shake of 
the head and a suppressed yawn. 

“ But before ye turn in,” resumed the host, “I vish to 
say again how glad I vas ye gome so soon back. For now 
ye vas in time for our May-day vhen ve get great goot 
times. O yaw, in der vinsome joyous Ma^^ v^hen as Chris 
Marlowe say, 

‘ The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 
For they delight each May morning.’ 

“And when according to Sidney’s muse,” added 
Rupert, 

‘ May, then young his pied wings showing 
New perfumed with flowers fresh growing.’ ” 

“ Dot vas' goot; und sdtill of ve don’t vas happy ve shust 
go mit old fader Chaucer in der May-time singing to his 
daisy; 

‘ And walking in the mead 
To see this flow’r against the sunne spread. 

When it upriseth early by the morrow. 

That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow.’ ” 


478 


Ebba Borjeson. 


Rupert Fairfield bade a gleeful good-night as he retired, 
and some moments later, while sinking to sleep, heard lin- 
gering sounds from the neighboring bed. Then in die- 
away tones, with broken cadence and straggling finale, 
came — 

“Love whose month is ever May, 

Spied a blossom passing fair 
Playing in — the — wanton — air — ” 

When peaceful sleep proved victor in the seeming 
struggle and the little cabin resounded with the loud 
snores of its genial host. 


CHAPTER LXYII. 

A few mornings after, Rupert Fairfield was awakened 
by the sounds of music. He had been struggling in his 
slumber with a confused mingling of friendly greetings 
and jingling rhymes, and for a moment he was uncertain 
whether he heard through his dreaming or wakeful senses. 
Holding his breath to listen he caught first the softly 
invoking strokes of a lute, and then the full round voice 
of Uncle Gabe rose with gathering fervor in that glorious 
outburst of Isaiah: “Sing O heavens, and be joyful O 
earth; break forth into singing O mountains, for the Lord 
hath comforted his people.” 

Leaping from his bed Rupert hastened to the casement, 
and at the same instant the rising sun burst through the 
Eastern woods, flaming the sky with crimson and gold. It 
was the first of May; and the soulful islander was greeting 
it with a sunrise hymn of praiseful welcome. Such sun- 
greeting after the ushering dawn was one of the beautiful 
observances of mixed pagan and Romish origin which yet 
lingered among the Protestants of Germany and Holland. 
If it had here no official injunction, the custom found in 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach an adherent who felt the warmer 
sanction of tradition and the freer notions of a volunteer 
zealot as to the manner of its performance. 

Of like informality was the May-day celebration by the 
early Delaware colonists. The instincts of a pious and 
grateful people impelled an expression of the common 
gladness at advancing spring and its blossoming promise. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


479 


And never was gayer allurement than now this fresh and 
jocund day. Nature, but lately a sober dame in brown 
habiliments, seemed a fair young bride resplendent in her 
nuptial vestments. At an early hour the people wended 
their way to the sunny exposures along the Christina and 
Brand3^wine: and in due time moving masses of dogwood 
blossoms, leafy banners of earliest verdure, trailing gar- 
lands and flowerj^ crowns were half smothering their bear- 
ers in triumphal procession. Then, by a common impulse 
in the absence of any prescribed order for the day, the 
merry-makers centered about a little open grove on a 
grassy lawn thickly bespangled with wild flowers, which 
gently sloped to the banks of the Brandywine near its first 
rapids; and there they soon grew songfully busy with the 
fun of adorning its limbs and branches with garlands, and 
weaving festoons and arches from tree to tree, thus form- 
ing a floral arbor in which the leafy and swaying walls 
caused a mottled play of light and shade exquisitely toned 
under a shady canopy. 

It was not without quickened pulses that Ebba had 
brief!}" exchanged courtesies with Rupert Fairfield upon 
his late return from Virginia; and it was now with some 
trepidation that she thought of the probability of again 
meeting him among the assembled people. For this rea- 
son, and because of hints she had caught that she was to 
be chosen May Queen, she felt reluctant to venture forth. 
The children had been sent on under the charge of Lars; 
and she hoped by tarrying at home as long as practicable 
that some one else would be honored as queen of the day. 
But the device was unavailing; for when at a late hour 
Ebba approached the assemblage a bevy of girls ran to 
meet her, crying ‘ ‘ Our queen ! Our queen ! Ebba Bor- 
jeson for our May Queen.” 

” Nay, nay, girls, I know not the duties of a queen. 
Pray honor some older resident who better knows your 
customs.” 

‘‘ O, no matter, we want you for our May Queen.” 

” But,” protested Ebba, ” I ne’er was even presented to 
a floral queen; how expect me to act one; but why have a 
queen at all these times of equal rights ?” 

“ O dear, we must have a queen. What would be May- 
day without a May Queen?” 

And so indeed a floral queen seemed a crowning essential 
of the day. For since the English conquest in 1664, the 
Swedish festival of midsummer and the corresponding ob- 
servance of the Dutch had gradually given place to the 


480 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


customs of the May-day celebration of olden England, 
with which the earlier Delaware season at least seemed in 
better accord. But specially wishing to avoid cause for 
jealousy, Ebba continued to decline the proffered honor. 
Her motive, if known, would hardly have been then and 
there appreciated. And so to her shaking head and pro- 
testing voice they responded with merry persistence, until 
with smiling remonstrance she sought escape by quoting 
the Quaker’s biblical idea of being no respecter of per- 
sons. 

“ But we are no Quakers; we want a queen. A queen ! 
A queen ! Ebba Borjeson for our queen !” so they chor- 
used. 

“ Better yet,” she replied, as a last plea, ” let us all be 
queens and kings and crown each other. I will be one of 
your queens, if not your one queen.” 

To this there was seeming assent as the petitioners 
turned reluctantly away, but half an hour later, while 
Ebba was quietly gazing at the foaming rapids, she was 
stealthily approached from behind and a floral crown 
deftly placed upon her head, while suddenly a circle of ex- 
ultant maidens joined hands round her to complete the 
enforced coronation with merry dance and song. 

Amid this laughing performance the near bushes were 
suddenly put aside and Rupert Fairfield presented himself. 
Ebba’s cheeks reddened to her temples. ^ 

” O, a queen should not blush like a girl,” said a sport- 
ive courtier,” ” when she only gets her due.” 

And glad anough was the entrapped queen that her face 
of quickened color might be ascribed to the honor sud- 
denly thrust upon her. By strenuous exertion of will she 
regained self-control, and quietly assuming her queenly 
sceptre ordered the merriment to go forward. And for- 
ward it went with the simple gusto of rustic fun, but with 
sufficient expansion to include the mutual crowning of the 
fun-makers, according to the Queen’s suggestion. 

Amid the sport the query was suddenly raised: 

” Where’s Uncle Gabe all this time?” 

”0, he’s once more with Hans and Andy; and be- 
twixt such pesky wranglers he’ll have his labor for his 
pains.” 

This referred to the long standing enmity between Hans 
Peterson and Andrew Johnson, who hung aloof from each 
other and their commingling fellows. Resisting the peace- 
making of Uncle Gabe it was a quarrel destined to a some- 
what historic adjustment the following year. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


481 


At the sleepy nooning following luncheon, the crowned 
queen was seated on a mossy rock in the flickering shadow 
of a tulip poplar; and by chance or whim Rupert Fairfield 
lounged by her side. Whatever there was in that particu- 
lar spot the young man was rooted to it, and there was 
that in his dreamy face which denoted consciousness only 
of an exquisite presence. For without gazing at his com- 
panion he seemed to have no eyes but for her. There was 
yet a fresh charm in the flowery 'wreath with which Ebb a 
had been crowned. It gracefully encircled the glossy 
folds of her rich black* hair. Her blue veins kept timid 
company with slightly flushed cheeks in a wonted white 
face of an indefinable poise. She wore a simple dress of 
pure white, ornamented onh^ with an antique throat-clasp 
of heir-loom jewelry. Without seeming to notice these 
particulars the young man drank in their effective tout en- 
semble) and whatever else he may have felt here or hoped 
for in the hereafter, the one thing he was surest of as he 
heard the soothing plash of waters and scented the balm 
of that May afternoon, was the feeling of ineffable content. 
Follow what might he was a very pagan in his utter sur- 
render to the sufficing present. And something did follow 
to try his equanimity. 

For when Ebba, who chanced to notice a cluster of rare 
flowers a few yards distant, made a move to obtain them, 
her companion, whether with an unconscious impulse of 
like character or a conscious wish to anticipate her, sprang 
forward at the same instant to secure the prize for her. As 
they simultaneously stooped for the common object their 
faces came in accidental contact. Each with a flushed 
face and muttered apology turned away in confusion, 
while a gleeful twitter ran among their observing neigh- 
bors. Nor were these the only witnesses of the incident; 
for its climax, at least, did not escape the notice of Okowela 
and Uncle Gabe, who at that instant made their appear- 
ance. The young Indian, always constrained in her pre- 
sence, seemed as much confused as Ebba at what had oc- 
curred, while the lady sufferer, glad of relief, heartily 
welcomed the new-comers. 

“ Red men,” said Okowela, “be two-times glad to-day; 
for this first of the May month brings bird and flower- 
time, and ’tis the birthday of our good chief Tamanend.” 

“ Happily connected events,’’ said Ebba, “and nicely 
coupled in Okowela’s thought; and so doubly welcome the 
joyous day.” 


31 


482 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


But it had become less welcome or joyous to one of the 
company. For Rupert Fairfield was looking on with jeal- 
ous eyes that scowled at the dusky disturber of his enjoy- 
ment of Hbba’s company. To avert ill-feeling and promote 
neighborly sport Uncle Gabe called for dancing. And so 
at an understood signal the rustic assemblage, bearing 
floral wands and blossoming banners, saluted the May 
Queen and escorted her to a wreathed pole erected on the 
flowery lawn. Around this, while the elder people smoked 
and told over oft-repeated stories, the young folks kept 
going the many dance till the fading May twilight merged 
into the gathering dusk, when the people dispersed to 
their homes. 

And now, perhaps the least satisfied member of the re- 
turning May party was its honored queen. It was not that 
anything had been amiss in the day’s arrangements or had 
miscarried in their due observance. For in truth she had 
been surprised at the joyful harmony and simple propriety 
of their little festival. Nor did she suffer more than 
momentary annoyance from the pett}" incident of her 
flower gathering rencontre with Rupert Fairfield. It was 
not an outward exhibit but an internal conflict that 
troubled Ebba Borjeson. She had confident!}' told herself 
that with reference to Mr. Fairfield she knew her course 
and felt the peace of secure anchorage. And now, here 
she was again at sea, tossing upon its billows. For she 
could not deny that she had been strangel}" affected by his- 
presence. 

And so it was that the queen of the day went homeward 
in outward honor and inward disquiet. That she did not 
love this man she was quite sure. What, then, meant her 
tumult of feeling at the first report of his return to the set- 
tlement ? What meant her threatened loss of womanly 
equipoise in his presence ? If she did not love him was 
she equally certain she was indifferent to his attentions ? 
Had she unconsciously encouraged him by her vacillating 
manner or lack of dignity ? Or had she gone even further 
and in her wish to avoid inflicting pain, reall}' given hope? 
Where and in what had she offended that she must again 
be so self-goaded ? 

Struggling thus with accusing surmise Ebba sought 
comfort in the heart’s wholesome impulse and the hand’s 
helpful action. Once more she determined to give herself 
so wholly to exacting duty that no ground should remain 
for such weakening introspection. And as always in the 
inspiration of fresh purpose, this Swedish girl was true to 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


483 


the pious usages linked with memories of church and 
childhood ; so after hastening to her chamber it was at 
once an educated habit and a whelming need that brought 
her to her knees with much of a child’s confiding supplica- 
tion for heavenly guidance. For truer wisdom she craved 
in seeking to become more a child, so to turn from the 
subterfuges of the world to the wholesome verities of un- 
hampered nature. 

Then, as if in keeping with renewed inner con- 
secration, all outward growth seemed quickened into more 
verdurous profusion. The lilacs and their old-fashioned 
companions in the garden gladdened daily to a very riot of 
home-scenting abundance ; the over-laden apple trees, 
spent with rivalling bloom, showered their odorous blos- 
soms in snowy masses ; and when at the close of her daily 
duties Ebba extended an occasional walk nearer the woods, 
she found the cheeks of the May apple puffed to mellow 
fullness and the preacher grown big in his pulpit. 

It was during one of these after-walks toward the end of 
May that Ebba one evening seated herself upon a fallen 
tree for a rest. After a day of exacting tasks she was re- 
turning from a later tramp than usual, and darkness was 
rapidly engulfing her. She was about to resume her 
homeward walk when she heard a sudden rustle among the 
bushes, and, turning, discerned the dim outlines of a tall 
man before her. With a smothered exclamation she 
bounded to her feet. 

“ Fear not,” spoke a quiet voice, ” ’tis Okowela. Why 
stays Pale-face for night and the mocking owl? Okowela 
watch her footsteps.” 

” Ah, once he watched them as a stranger and was kind ; 
he will not be less so now as a friend.” 

‘ ‘ As a friend comes Okowela ; he would shield her from 
harm.” 

” O, thank you ; ’twas a kind Okowela to care for my 
safety ; but whence came you so suddenly, and why?” 

” From our great father Onas comes Okowela, as bearer 
of good tidings.” 

From Governor Penn ! and to whom are his greet- 
ings ?” 

‘‘To the many tribes of the grandfather red men, the 
great Original People. Secone goes as messenger to the 
Wapanachki of the East, and Okowela bears word to 
the tide-water Nanticokes and mountain Lenapes, even 
imto the bordering tribes of the Five Nations, the proud 
Ongwe-honwe. ” 


484 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Indeed ! and why, then, to so many of your people?”” 

‘ ‘ To call them all to the great treaty council of peace 
and brotherhood.” 

“ So, indeed; and where and when will they gather ?” 

At Shackamaxon, the meetingplace of the Kings on 
the river shore. To that spot, tender with memories of 
our Indian fathers, the good Miquon asks all the tribes 
dwelling in his province to come and be paid for the land 
he has already bought of the English king. There our 
white brother will beg all to join in burying the hatchet be- 
fore it be lifted, and to dwell together as one people in love 
and peace.” 

“ Noble object, sure to be nobly rewarded. From good 
seed thus sown only good fruit can come.” 

“ But sometime it take root not soon. This will be seed 
two times sown; for the Quaker Onas, when he first did 
come last year, sent word to our people to come and coun- 
cil with him as brethren. But the Swedish interpreter 
could not make the English words clear enough to our In- 
dian minds, which do always take much time for reflec- 
tion; and as the heads of the young braves were full of 
the fall hunt then just beginning, they would not be hin- 
dered; and so they came not. And Tamanend and all our 
wisest counsellors were troubled lest Onas should be dis- 
pleased. But now our hearts are glad that Miquon sends 
forth his good words again.” 

“Think you, then, your people will now heed them?” 

“What sleeps deep down in the red man’s heart who 
may know; but who . says it throbs not with the wish to 
show kindness for kindness ? The early Swedes treated 
our people as our brother Penn would now treat them. And 
ere the Dutch and English dickerers came to make strife, 
never was a drop of Swedish blood shed by Indian. Yet 
fair words, we know, not always lead to good deeds; and 
some of our people have bitter memories of their ill usage 
from the Duke of York’s servants in these river territories. 
They sulk away over their wrongs and are slow to believe 
in the new friends that are come. But Okowela hopes 
much from the spare time they now have ; they rest from 
the fall hunt and the spring fishing, and both were fair. 
The red man is content in his wigwam; the distant tribes 
will be loath to come so far; but if all will send only their 
truest men to the great council-fire at Shackamaxon, Ok- 
owela’s heart will be as proud as the eagle’s and its glad- 
ness wax with the joy of the morning.” 


Ebb a Borjesoii. 


485 


Ebba was struck with the glowing earnestness of the 
young chief. She had never before heard such continuous 
sentences from him without solicitation. In apt and sim- 
ple words he had tersely stated the exact situation of af- 
fairs then subsisting between Penn and the Indians; but he 
was too proudly modest to intimate the further fact that 
he had been specially chosen as principal messenger, not 
merely for his youthful vigor and fleetness of foot, but for 
his intelligent faith and the tact and persuasive eloquence 
of his speech. To that speech Ebba found herself listen- 
ing with a delight not less genuine, because she had long 
suspected its bashful force. 

But now, as if ashamed with self-surprise, Okowela sud- 
denly ceased; his usual constraint returned upon him, and, 
as if with choking self-consciousness, he hung his head 
in confusion. 

“ But we may tarry not longer here,” he resumed, ” for 
black night tarries not. Shall Okowela stay with — may 
he — will the fair lady allow Okowela to guide her home- 
Avard way.” 

” Thank you, Okowela.” 

Silently they walked down the lessening banks of the 
Brandywine. Occasionally the silvery flash of its waters 
gleamed through the gathering darkness, and gradual!}' 
the murmur of its less troubled current attuned itself to the 
burden of their unspoken thoughts. More than once Ebba 
tried vainly to resume the conversation. She was re- 
warded with but monosyllabic responses and she felt her- 
self yielding to a weird silence which refused to be 
broken, when, as they emerged from the last strip of 
woods, she thought she heard a half-spoken word from her 
companion. She turned to him enquiringly, but elicited 
uothing, and they trudged on in silence. 

With a turn of the path skirting a clump of trees, the 
feeble light from Uncle Gabe’s lonely cabin twinkled over 
the marshes and presently the lighted window of dame Sig- 
nild’s house appeared in the distance. 

” Okowela would speak” — the words came with a gut- 
teral sound as if emitted in desperate struggle. 

” Say on,” said Ebba, as he paused as if for permission. 

“Okowela would , speak other words, but — but his 
tongue halts. Okowela bears greetings of love and peace 
to friend and foe of his red kindred; can he do less toward 
the white maiden who is winged in whiter kinship from 
over the great water to be with the Indian in his joy and 


486 Ebb a Borjcson. 

grief ? Will not the kind maid come to the council even 
as one of us ?’ ’ 

“O most gladly — my good friends and I will all be 
there.” 

With an eager start the Indian seized Ebba’s hand and 
preSvSed it to his lips. 

” Great Spirit ever shield and bless her,” he exclaimed, 
as h^ turned and bounded away into the bushes. 

” Nay, Okowela, do not so leave me. Pray, tarry over 
till the morning.’’ 

” Nay, when the red morning next paints the East 
his big eye must find Okowela many leagues on his 
journey; his hot beams shall else sting as vengeful 
arrows.” 

“What, travel all night? But Uncle Gabe ! will you 
not say farewell to him; shall not he and all your good 
friends be bidden to the council fire ?” 

“ Nay, Okowela leaves that to his fair friend; he trusts 
to her kindness to give welcome to all; time hastens; 
Okowela must speak with many tribes in many places, and 
all is to be done in one moon’s time; Okowela with swift 
feet must away.” 

With his receding footsteps the sound of the young 
Indian’s final adieu mingled with the tidal murmur of 
the creek, when Ebba turned and quickened her few steps 
homeward. 


CHAPTER EXVIII. 

In her eagerness to be present at the great peace council 
Ebba had not thought of the liability she thus incurred 
of travelling thereto in company with Rupert Fairfield ; 
and now as she quickened her steps in the growing dark- 
ness she did not know or would not confess to herself the 
nature of that renewed feeling of mingled pleasure and 
pain which made her dread further and nearer intercourse 
with him. 

Nor was she more at ease when some weeks later the 
settlement was astir with a double prospect. For the ex- 
pected treaty was to take place next day atShackamaxon, 
and the mill on Chester creek was completed. For 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


487 


the latter the people were preparing grists, and Uncle 
Gabe was overhauling his Fish Hawk for a voyage to both 
places. 

At dawn of the next morning the head of the Black 
Cat was busy with people loading for the excursion. For 
the}'' were to drop down with the last ebb to the Delaware 
and there take the first up-tide. There was a struggling 
light before starting; for a rain in the night had left a grey 
mist upon all the watery basin swept by the woods and 
hills. But the soft air was laden with fragrance and vocal 
with the songs of birds. Through it came the scent of 
white clover and new-mown hay, with that of trampled 
spear-mint at the beginning and marshy odors on the way. 

But as they rounded into the river the sun burst over 
the New Jersey woods and licked up the routed mists. 
Then with the disclosed beauty of the sweet June day up 
rose the rustic spirits and out swelled the simple gladness 
of the voyagers, to which, indeed, all the influences of sky 
and water, field and forest speedily lent their gentle minis- 
trations. Following rain and fog the lowing of distant 
cows voiced the joy of freshened pastures, while a steamy 
incense arose from all sated nature. And when the vessel 
closely hugged the western shore the brown thrush 
hymned his praise from the loftiest tree-tops, the cuckoo 
chattered his boastful triumph as a rain-prophet, the 
rough-voiced jay scolded back in his flittings, while from 
the silent depths of the forest the liquid song of the wood- 
thrush seemed a gladder response to the honest-voiced 
quail, who from clearings and early ripening grain fields 
newly proclaimed himself jubilant “ Bob White !” 

To these things Ebba surrendered herself in unreserved 
enjoyment. With a little management she had contrived 
to interpose several strangers between her own seat and 
that of Rupert Fairfield in the crowded boat; and as there 
was no lack of talk and social intercourse without her aid 
she kept her silent place in dreamy contemplation of the 
varied shore and the broad, bright river. To few persons 
were they so full of tender meaning. For the tulip poplar 
bowed his lofty greeting from sloping hills, the pendant 
tufts of chestnut blossoms gleamed like gilded epaulettes 
from the heights, and amid green forest-settings wheat 
fields in deepening gold grew ripe for the sickle. These 
and such like she had been*watching in silence, but when 
they presently came in sight of the Essex House at Ches- 
ter, with its lofty grove and green lawn sloping to the quiet 
river, she was betrayed into a half-muttered quotation 


488 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


from the Psalmist, “ He maketh me to lie down in green 
pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.” 

The words were scarcely heard or heeded b}' most of 
the party, but they did not escape the readier ears of Ru- 
pert Fairfield. That young man had long been stealing 
glances at the subtle changefulness of Ebba’s unconscious 
face. “ Strange, indeed,” thought he, ” is this compound 
of savage and saint. With the Northman’s mythic worship 
of cold, brutal fortitude, did she not unite the reverence 
and devotional imagery of a Hebrew seer of old ? In 
which character was she the more attractive, or was he 
lured yet more by her withdrawn moods wherein she made 
an enigma of herself? Again he scrutinized her face. He 
saw little emotional play upon its surface, which was 
simply the more incentive to search for what was not seen ; 
just as he had from the first found more food in what she 
withheld than in what others freely offered. More 
and more his querying heart told him how rich and force- 
ful, if erratic, must be a nature whose demonstrative 
outcome warred with a delicacy demanding self-suppr.es- 
sion. The anomaly whetted his curiosity, as well as a 
warmer feeling. 

While recently absent he had wondered what manner of 
girl he should find her upon his return; he had found her 
one, as at the May festival, in whose simple presence he 
felt himself utterly content. Was this enough? Ah, but 
for the haunting disquiet, the alluring suspicion of yet un- 
sounded depths in the girl ! Had not the cold north its 
volcanoes as well ? Linked with its dark, silent stern- 
ness of character was the tempering home-love with its 
simple tenderness and truth. And did not the gentle un- 
concern of Ebba’s manner hide secret fires and heroic 
fealty for whomsoever should win her heart? Yes, Ru- 
pert Fairfield had long since solved his early problem 
whether he was more attracted than repelled by her unde- 
niable originality. But other problems awaited solution; 
was he madly in love with the girl; could he win her?'* 
We shall see. 

Meanwhile the Fish Hawk has rounded into Chester 
creek and taken aboard from its nearest sloping shore our 
waiting Friend Pusey. For a time they have exchanged 
the bright expansion of the river for the picturesuqe wind- 
ings of the narrow creek. On one side are gracefully 
rolling uplands; on the other, verdurous meadows and 
lush pasture levels. And was ever anything more delicious 
than the fresh scents of the wild rose and elderberry bios- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


489 


soms which float from the fringed banks of the stream and 
mingle with its watery exhalations? With all the com- 
mingling odors of June they seem the completed breath of 
the virginal month. With a little scratching the Fish 
Hawk makes the circular passage of the Twin Whales and 
reaches the head of tide, where from under overhang- 
ing trees peeps the new mill. Landing themselves and 
their grists they gaze in brief wonder at the comparatively 
large and complete structure; and, re-embarking, drop 
down to the river and resume their voyage. 

Above Chester houses and cleared fields soon disap- 
peared from the western shore, and the sole break in the 
dominion of primeval nature was seen in the ruined ves- 
tiges left by old Governor Printz on Tinicum island. And 
now the social resources of the party began to fail. They 
had been merry and talkative on the early voyage, but 
they were for the most part hardworking planters who 
succumbed to the languor following labor, and their vivac- 
ity declined with the disappearance of nov^elties. For want 
of these .some of the ruder passengers were soon in a mood 
for coarse raillery tending to lapse into less innocent scan- 
dal. 

From this Ebba felt annoyance, besides a little trouble 
of her own. For with the re-adjustment of seats after un- 
loading at the mill she found herself now side by side with 
Rupert Fairfield. Vexed with her own lack of precaution 
against such contingency she turned uneasily in her seat, 
her eyes sought some means of escape and her cheeks 
tingled with added chagrin as she realized her banished 
tranquility of mind. There was the same blue sky, the 
.same balmy air, the same luring and exquisite beauty in 
all fresh nature’s peaceful surroundings. Why not the 
same fresh and peaceful appreciation of them ? 

Why not, indeed ? Why can no occasion sought spe- 
cially for pleasure be wholly free from the little troubles, 
the petty vexations from whose earthly persistence we 
reap displeasure ? So Ebba questioned of herself with the 
stirring of her rebellious blood, as she bit her lip in vexed 
protest. For this she had more special cause when she 
presently became conscious of being an object' of the sport 
of a few of her neighbors, who with shrugging shoulders 
and quizzical glances were coupling her by signs with 
Rupert Fairfield. 

Nor was that gentleman free from his share of embar- 
rassment. While he was usually glad of an opportunity 
to be near the lady, both pride and policy forbade his pro- 


490 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


fiting by an accidental proximity to which she was mani- 
festly averse; and both felt alike ashamed of their own 
awkward constraint in not being superior to the petty ag- 
gravation from the half-sleepy twittering of others. More 
than once Rupert sought diversion by appealing to Uncle 
Gabe for a song or story. But the skipper was engrossed 
with the management of his craft, with whose behavior 
he was not wholly pleased, and he shook his head in tem- 
porary refusal. The giggling sport went on; it grew 
noisier and more reckless, while another effort to change 
its current’ended no better than the first. Friend Pusey look- 
ed his disapproval and Rupert his growing anger. Ebba had 
scprned to notice the matter as long as she herself was one 
of the special objects of the silly fun, but presently as 
some of the gossips again began to reflect upon the charac- 
ter of absent neighbors, she turned to Uncle Gabe and 
quietly appealed to him to recite Shakspere’s description 
of a priceless reputation. 

“ Vhat vas dot?” he asked in affected ignorance. 

” Go to, now,” said Rupert, none can render better than, 
you those, lines of hypocritical lago — 

‘ Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; 
’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; 

But he that filches from me my good name 
Robs me of that which not enriches him 
And makes me poor indeed.’ ” 

‘‘ Mebpe, den, he dot vilches mein goot name dtakes dot 
vhat I don’t got now.” 

There were sudden concurrent quakings of stifled laugh- 
ter. The ludicrous absurdit3^ the grim humor of the self- 
inculpating terminus proved too unexpectedly convulsive 
for ordinary guffaws. 

” Come, come now. Uncle Gabe,” said Rupert, ‘‘none 
can give the famous lines with truer accent or in nicer 
English, if you only will. Please favor us.” 

But the Fish Hawk persisted in her lubberly unwieldi- 
ness ; and as the skipper’s quoting effusions were usually 
proportioned to the quickened freedom of his vessel 
he shook his head and continued his moody scrutiny of the 
craft’s canvas and conduct, in silence. 

“Well,” persisted Rupert after a pause, ‘‘if you must 
give your own words and construction to Shakspere’s 
lines, at least give us more of them; and give them, 
pray, metrically, with all your peculiar rhyme and ring.” 

‘‘Yaw, yaw, presacly,” and without change of a line in 
a face of assumed gravity, the Dutchman drew himself up- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


491 


with inflated lungs and stunning posture, and in grand- 
iloquent tones burst forth — 

“ Who steals mein burse vas awfully fooled tief; 

’Tvas mine, but who gots dot burse vill gome to grief; 

For vhen fullest ov cash ’twere zorriest dtrash. 

But he dot vilches mine goot name py tongue, or how, 

Yell he shust tdakes dot vhat I don’t got now.” 

The merry explosion that followed was an effectual 
diversion for those of the party most familiar with the oft 
quoted lines, and if any failed to appreciate their ludicrous 
paraphrase they were hardly less diverted by their effect 
upon Friend Pusey, whose convulsed features long con- 
tinued their merry rebellion against Quakerly composure. 
Nor was he more composed when as the laughter was sub- 
siding, the skipper looked about him with an innocent 
stare and quietly asked: 

“ Vhat for ye laugh, eh? Der vords vere shpoken py 
dot pig rascal lago, und a goot name vas vhat he don’t 
had den; ’twas shust dtrash so more as mine empty burse, 
eh ?” 

Which lucid explanation did not lessen the amusement 
of the party, however it may have failed in their enlight- 
ment. 

And there was some of the same effect upon them when 
presently, with a shifting wind and change of course, the 
skipper 3^elled out a rapid succe.ssion of orders to his many 
ycleped boatswain and crew of one stout urchin, and the 
vessel bent to with better speed. 

“Bravo, Skipper! at this rate,’’ said Rupert, “we’ll 
soon be among the Quakers. And by the way, Mr. Pusey, 
we hear much of these f^eople, but few of us know aught 
of their doctrines. Will you not kindly enlighten us?’’ 

“ Nay, please do not ask it. The vanity of speech, I 
fear, is my weakness ; and this is a day for pleasure, not 
preaching.” 

“ But the profit would not lessen the pleasure. What, 
briefly, is the Quaker creed ? we would all gladly learn 
what is your confession of faith.’’ 

“ None have we. These are made by men in earthly 
conclaves. Religion concerns the individual soul in its 
separate relation to the Infinite Father, a sacred privacy 
wherein man, with his finite authority, is a gross usurper. 
The essential thing is to know God as father, and man as 
brother. Hence our claim for liberty of worship ; 
hence the need of that wide toleration through which we 


492 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


may prove our faith by our works, according to Christ’s 
assurance that ‘ by their fruits ye shall know them.’ ” 

“A mild religion, methinks, for proselyting the world, 
and a generous, if not lax philosophy, wherewithal to peo- 
ple a wilderness alike with friends and foes. But look ! 
What see we yonder in the distance ; houses are they ?” 

All eyes were turned in the direction indicated, and over 
a leftward stretch of lowland, rounded to the sweep of the 
river, there appeared a number of what seemed like build- 
ings amid scattered trees, and partially hidden by a lofty 
grove in front, with a background of hills and forests be- 
yond. 

“ The new town? Can it be the Quaker city of — of — ” 

“ Philadelphia !” cried the skipper, with a grand bow of 
greeting, while with hat in hand his single arm swept to- 
ward the new wonder. “All hail der red man’s Cu- 
wequenaka dot vas, und all men’s city ov proderly luf dots 
lobe ! ’Tis der New Vorld’s newest hope.” 

And busy enough were eyes and hurried words of 
astonishment and applause as the circling course of the 
boat brought house after house into view until they sailed 
squarely round in front of the town. Marvelous change ! 
Where nine months before only a cluster of squatter’s huts 
with the cabins of surve5^ors and axmen marked the spot, 
and where one year before the Svenson farm alone broke a 
continuous forest, there ranged now the dwellings of hun- 
■dreds of settlers over nearly half a square mile of the 
platted town site ! 

“ Doth it not show,’’ said Friend Pusey, “that strife and 
strength are not worthier yoke-fellows than peace and pros- 
perity ?’’ 

“Truly indeed, then,’’ said Ebba, 

‘ — Your gentleness shall force. 

More than your force move us to gentleness.’ ” 

Rupert and the Quaker alike looked their cordial recog- 
nition of the apt quotation, while the skipper rapturously 
declared, 

“ Dot vas most bootiful opplication of dot Duke’s vords 
in As You Like It. Yaw, und as you like it der zame ve 
shust vill zee more ov dis vorce of shentleness und jus- 
tice in der council of vild und gentle men. Und zo be 
spry dere, mein crew ; altogeder now, gif efery zheet to 
der vind !’’ 

And as Shackamaxon was now scarcely a mile further, 
they soon saw on the river bend, in their front, a crowd of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


495 


people near the shore, whose number was being swelled 
by arriving boat-loads from different directions. With a 
changing angle of light the flashing sun presently revealed 
the painted savages in their red blankets and feather deco- 
rations, intermingled with the plainly garbed Quakers in 
their curled broad brims. Seen amid masses of green fo- 
liage, under lofty scattered trees, with the blue river in 
front and the primeval forest as the background, it was a 
picture to engross the instant gaze and feed a glowing im- 
agination. 

When the Fish Hawk touched the shore the assemblage 
were already arranged in position, but the proceedings had 
not commenced. This was much to the relief of the skip- 
per, who feared they might be late. And it relieved the 
even greater anxiety of another person, one who had 
awaited their arrival. For the last band of Indians which 
Okowela had summoned from afar, had just come on to 
the ground as Uncle Gabe’s vessel was nearing the shore, 
and the joy of the young chief at the two timely arrivals 
knew no bounds. 

And it may be guessed that the heart of a certain white 
lady was not untouched by the triumphant gladness of the 
fleet young runner of eloquent speech. As he came for- 
ward with a noble stride and proud glad look to greet his 
friends from Christeen, Ebba wondered whether she had 
ever seen a finer sample of handsome young manhood. 
However else she felt, her cheeks tingled with the honest 
simple pleasure of meeting an ardent and true friend. But 
was it a stealthier consciousness that flashed the crimson 
in her face when the young chief lingered to add some 
low spoken words in her ear? It was, to be sure, but a 
trivial incident, noticed by only a few by-standers, but it 
did not escape the watchfully jealous eye of Rupert Fair- 
field. He had before seen enough between the two to ex- 
cite his suspicions, and now his heart quaked with the 
strong confirmation of them. Or was it but the momen- 
tary maddening blindness of a lover in his over-sensitive 
jealousy of possible rivals ? 

However it was, the vision of the Virginian, whether of 
eye or soul, was too blurred to perceive the general move- 
ment among both whites and red men which now drew all 
eyes in one common direction. For William Penn and his 
attendants were moving to their position under the shade 
of a wide branching elm, and Okowela hurried away to 
take his proper place among his people. Of the latter fact 


494 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


alone, Rupert Fairfield was so intensely conscious that his 
tremulous gaze followed the red skin with glowering fe- 
rocity as he departed. 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

Never, perhaps, was a more unique assemblage than 
that undiplomatic Congress of Nations. Deep in signifi- 
cance, it was alike ample in color, bizarre in feature and 
vivid in contrasts. For there the simple people who at- 
tempted most in the practicable following of Christ were 
face to face with the savages who had never heard His 
name. And there in the open temple of nature roofed 
with leafy canopies and a June sky, there was undertaken 
with nature’s untutored red men, in the presence of the 
tranquil riv^er and witnessing forest, what had never been 
achieved by the most advanced of so-called Christian 
nations in the heart of their gilded civilization. 

Under the famous elm Penn and his accompanying 
Friends were gathered. A little without its longest limbs 
the smoke curled up from the council-fire, and about this 
fire in semi-circular form were seated the representative 
sachems and head men of the various tribes and under 
bands whom, as occupants of his Province the Quaker gov- 
ernor had convened in friendly council. They belonged 
principally to the great Lenni Lenape tribes or “ Original 
People,” but embraced a few representatives of their 
hereditary enemies, the Five Nations, living on the upper 
waters of the great rivers flowing into the Province from 
the North. 

When all was silent save the rustling leaves and chirp- 
ing birds, the head chief Tamanent turned from a deep 
consultation with his fellow chiefs and donning his kingly 
chaplet surmounted by its emblematic horn, announced 
through Lacy Cock interpreter, that the nations were 
ready to hear their great white Father; but adding the wish 
that they might first be allowed to speak a few words of 
explanation. Penn having nodded his ready assent, Tama- 
nent turned to a spokesman chief selected for his capacity 
to speak English, whereupon that dusky orator stood up, 
and advancing to the collected Friends, made a grave sa- 
lute. Then taking Penn by the hand he thus addressed 
him: 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


495 


The wise Tamanent, our red Father of the forest, speaks 
to Onas, the great white Father from beyond the big 
water. The words I speak are not the words of the 
speaker but the mind of our king, because it is our good ^ 
Tamanent that speaks; and he, our great head chief, tells 
of the sorrow of his people that they harkened not to the 
voice of our white Father when he called them to a coun- 
cil-fire seven moons ago. But with the early falling leaves 
the red man loves not the council-fire, but the chase. For 
when the blossoms of spring wax late toward the snows of 
winter nature tires and the hunter is rested. Then the 
forests sleep and the glad deer leaps forth; and then the 
red man starts upon his 3’’early hunt. If he tarry or aught 
keeps him back his heart is vexed and he fears his family 
may want. It was when some of our bands had already 
gone for the game and others were ready to follow on with 
eager scent that the voice of our white Father came to us 
with the falling leaf so long ago. We feared we knew not 
all that Onas would say through some fault of the interpre- 
ter, who was neither Indian nor English. Our hearts were 
troubled. We halted and pondered. The red man delib- 
erates much before he acts. Time hastened; we heard the 
hunter’s call; we heeded not the call of Onas. The red 
man sees his fault. But if the younger people and some 
owners of lands had been as ready as the ever wise Taman- 
ent, our good Father of the pale face had not met so many 
moons delay. Now we grieve that his heart was tried. 
We are glad that he calls us again. All the Grandfather 
tribes — all the descendants of the great Original People 
have sent to this council-fire. We come with full hands 
from the fall chase and spring catch, and we greet our 
white Father when our hearts are glad.” 

Having thus introduced the matter, the speaker referred 
to the bounds and price of the lands they were ready to 
dispose of and closed by expressing the wish to hear what 
the Governor should be pleased to say to them. Upon re- 
suming his squat on the grass the speaker received an ap- 
proving nod and more expressive grunt from Tamanent for 
having so well expressed the ideas of the head chief. 

Thereupon William Penn delivered his speech of confid- 
ing trust and love resulting in that strong league of friend- 
ship and commerce which remained unbroken as long as the 
Founder lived or his living faith was kept with the red 
man. But it is not the narrator’s purpose to pursue an 
oft-told story of an event of which there is such widely 
diffused, and yet so little information. In what was told 


496 Ebb a Borjeson. 

Ebba by Okowela when starting to call the tribes, as well 
as in the explanator}' opening speech of Tamanent’s orator, 
the ready may learn why the great Treat}^ did not occur in 
the Autumn of 1682 as has been commonly supposed, but 
in June 1683 as herein recorded. Other misapprehensions 
there have been as depicted in written and pictorial exhi- 
bits of the event. But, however these may affect details, 
the great event itself is an essential fact as invaluable ta 
history as it is creditable to our human nature. To Vol- 
taire’s memorable declaration that this, the only known 
treaty unsealed with an oath, was the only one unbroken, 
may be added that when at last its virtue ended it resulted 
from bad faith not of the unsworn savage but of civilized 
man. 

The general interest in the proceedings was fully shared 
b}^ the visitors brought by the Fish Hawk, while it mav be 
guessed that for one of them each detail of the novel 
scene was fraught with absorbing interest. This one, in- 
deed, was now mingling specially among the Indians ; for 
at the conclusion of the speaking they had ^.risen in a body 
and b}^ invitation turned to the busy inspection of the 
blankets, kettles and other articles brought them from 
Europe and arranged on the green sward to the red men’s 
admiring gaze. 

While they were so occupied Ebba amused herself by 
watching the facial expression of the dusky inspectors and 
listening to their gutteral grunts of satisfaction : when sud- 
denly, as much b}^ intuition as otherwise, she became con- 
scious of an added presence, and turning, had visible con- 
firmation that Okowela was at her side. He said nothing 
except with his speaking countenance. But if that was 
before beaming with gladness it now seemed radiant and 
exalted with the deep calm of a joy unspeakable. 

As the two thus stood in silent consciousness of each 
other they were closely watched by a pair of eyes betray- 
ing quite other than the self-poise of their owner. For 
Rupert Fairfield was glancing at them with the gasping 
intensity of the green-eyed monster. 

“But why are not you with your countrymen?’’ 
queried Ebba, breaking the silence. “Cares Okowela 
naught for the requiting gifts; claims he no reward for his 
faithful assiduity ?’’ 

“ Okowela’s reward is not such as can be touched by 
the hand or seen by the eye. And speaks the pale face of 
countrymen ?” and the young chief lifted his head with an 
inimitable mien of gentle dignity; “said not the great 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


497 


Onas that red and white men were to be more than 
countrymen and brothers — even as two parts of one living 
body: and speak you yet the common talk of — ” 

“ Pra}" forgive me. good Okowela: mine in truth were 
thoughtless words, but I meant surely no offence.” 

” It is well: Okowela has nothing to forgive. But now 
soon the red men have their games: will the white 
lady be pleased to behold our sport?” 

And almost as he spoke the agile redskin, catching 
a signal from King I'amanent, bowed apologetically to 
Ebba and bounded away as leader in those simple games 
of leaping, vaulting and running which for this occasion 
at least reached an historic fame second only to those 
of ancient Olympus. For it was in those primitive sports 
that staid Quakers, long practiced in self-repression, 
mildly joined in the interest of mutual good feeling, 
and in which their leader, William Penn, exhibited his 
superior agility, to the infinite delight of his red brethren. 

Following this diversion came a generous collation 
enjoyed by all as they lay about under the trees, and 
by some with the quickened relish incited by both 
emotional and ph3^sical exercise. By the contrivance 
of Okowela the passengers and crew of the Fish Hawk 
were as a separate party served with choice provisions 
specially designed for the Indians: and while all about 
them there was a general exchange of courtesies between 
Quaker and redskin by means of food, signs and broken 
speech, our Christine visitors, under the refreshing shade 
of an oak, centered their thoughts, tongues and teeth 
with one language and one subject alike in white and red 
skin, stimulated by savage appetites in all. 

But the party did not include one of the visitors who 
had arrived on the Fish Hawk. He was concerned with 
savagery in another direction. For Rupert Fairfield, hav- 
ing seen more than he could bear of the confiding inter- 
course between Ebba and the young chief, had rushed 
madly away without knowing or caring whither his blind 
rage should carry him. He was, as we have seen, one of 
those positive men of vehement natures who are prone to 
extremes as their only adequate discipline in life. And in 
common with most pupils in a school so thorough he had 
found its lesson severe and its tuition costly. But to do 
the young man justice it must be conceded that he had 
made a brave and persistent effort to profit by his school- 
ing. Nor considering his passionate nature and long un- 
checked self-indulgence was he wholly unsuccessful. 

32 


498 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


But whatever the nature of his early education, a 
higher grade of learning began with the young Virginian 
when he made the acquaintance of Kbba Borjeson. For 
that young lady he had conceived, if not the loftiest pas- 
sion, at least emotions quite other and far higher than any- 
thing heretofore experienced from his adventures with the 
other sex. And he found what superior men have dis- 
covered before and since, that the love of a noble woman 
is in itself ah education. It brings out all that is best in a 
man, and so tests his mettle that if in his dizzy aspiration 
he fail of the highest reach, he may drop to the lowest. 
Yet better that than not to have loved; for ’tis but a way- 
place in an unfinished race. 

Rupert’s sanguine temperament had permitted no abate- 
ment of hope merely because of the slow progress thus far 
made in his suit, if suit or progress there indeed had been 
thus far. For well he knew the perils to which his hot 
blood subjected him ; and, specially mindful of his narrow 
escape from wrecked fortunes by a premature declaration, 
he had kept himself under close guard against a repetition 
of the risk. In this he had so well succeeded as to surprise 
himself and indulgent Dutch host in more than one exhi- 
bition of self-control under apparently strong provocation. 
How much longer he could have sustained his newly ac- 
quired patience with a less trying ordeal, it is impossible to 
say. But he had witnessed Okowela’s cordial greeting to 
Ebba and the latter’s responsive gladness upon their first 
meeting on the ground; he had narrowly scanned their 
stolen glances and whispering attitudes before the council 
began, and he believed he had detected stealthy inter- 
changes of tenderer looks between them during the pro- 
ceedings. 

But when the young chief rejoined Ebba with such an 
exultant gleam in his face as seemed to illuminate its 
dusky shade; when he saw the graceful young athlete, 
with cheeks glowing from his leaping feats, hasten to the 
side of the girl he loved, and his jealous eyes watched the 
couple once more in the confiding attitude of whispered 
intercourse, Rupert Fairfield cast all further pretense of re- 
straint to the winds. He had seen enough. His vision 
grew blurred. With goad^ed heart and gasping breath he 
wavered between sensations of choking rage and sinking 
void, and became so buffeted by surging passion that after 
reeling in his mad wanderings among the darkest shrub- 
bery, he at length prostrated himself in exhausted stupor 
far from his companions. 


Ebb a Borjcso7i. 


499 


How long he there lay he could not tell, but amid the 
dense foliage it seemed to be growing dark and damp. 
Silent and self-banished he withal was having a breathing 
respite; and presently, with a desperate exertion of will, 
he rose and strode from the leafy copse. With the freer 
scope and air he strove to collect and compose himself. 
But with recovered calm came re-assailing consciousness. 
Again his blood quickened, his hot breath hissed between 
his clenched teeth, and he was driven wildly about by an 
invisible demon, seemingly intent upon putting murder in 
his heart. 

Rupert was too frenzied to consider what he' had ac- 
tually seen, or whether there was an}' real cause for jeal- 
ousy. He did not ask himself whether after all Hbba had 
shown more than the friendly politeness due to 
a devoted and tried friend, or had evinced more 
than proper sympathy and encouragement toward 
a bright and worthy young redskin, exhibiting some 
taste and aspiration for civilized life, All he cared to re- 
call, all he allowed himself to dwell upon was what he had 
seen of their furtive looks and near confidences, which his 
feverish fancy easily heated to loving intimacy. This 
Avas enough to blur his sight and drive calm consideration 
from his mind. 

Thus madly impelled he wandered on with the one 
vague purpose of escaping from the sight and haunts of 
men. Darkness was rapidly closing around him. All 
became a blank void in the thickening forest. He pushed 
aside the bushes and groped his way. On, on, he plunged 
with a blind, mad craving for oblivion, further and further 
into the engulfing wilderness. At length he grew faint and 
weary, and stumbling over a fallen tree he lay exhausted 
upon a brush heap. With the toils of mind and body af- 
ter a fitful beginning, he fell into a long, uneasy sleep. 
When he awoke the ri.sen moon was struggling through 
the tree-tops. He sprang to his feet and again wandered 
on. It was a still, cool night with a half moon and bright 
stars studding the clear sky. The swooping night-hawk 
sounded his hollow whiz near his heedless footsteps; the 
dazed bat flitted in drunken quiv'ers across his pathway, 
and the horned owl screeched at him in pitiless mockery. 

Yet as Rupert inhaled the leafy mould and scented 
breath of the June woods and gazed at the hushed sky be- 
tween the lulled tree-tops, he felt himself grow calmer. 
Then, for the first time, he tried to give the matter some- 
thing like rational consideration — to fairly realize the situ- 


500 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


ation. From the unwonted process he derived, if not rest- 
ful peace of mind, at least some mitigation of his torments. 
But his partial relief was of short duration. For when he 
had admitted to himself the undeniable good looks, fine 
hearing and noble impulses of Okowela, and then queried 
“ but after all, what is he but a blanketed and unhoused 
savage?” the thought rushed upon him with crushing force 
that Ebba, with her free spirit and wild Norse blood, 
would be precisely the girl to first recognize native nobil- 
ity of soul and to glory in defying conventional notions by 
a union with so fine a representative of a race which she 
thought . had been so grossly wronged. Besides, for the 
matter of rank, should she care for that, Okowela was him- 
self the son and successor of a noble chief of his race. 

No, no, he could find no solace either in giving way to 
emotion or in attempting its suppression. And so once 
more the poor fellow, seeking to overcome torment of soul 
by weariness of body, resumed his reckless roaming 
through the woods. He knew not where he was and had 
no thought and less care for his course, but by chance or 
whim, he made a broad leftward circuit, emerged from the 
densest forest, and began a long gentle descent. With the 
first tinge of dawn he felt his first keen hunger, and as 
daylight increased, he appeased its cravings with wild 
strawberries, which were plentiful in the dewy openings he 
passed. Then wandering on he at length came in sight of 
partially opened streets and scattered houses, where he 
caught sight again of the broad placid river and at last 
reached the intersection of two principal thoroughfares 
where, not one lone wanderer absorbed in a single passion, 
but thronging multitudes, swayed by all known incentives 
of the human soul, have since daily joined in the busy life 
of a great city. 

From the solace of the lonely forest Rupert Fairfield 
would now have gladly heard the diverting sounds of busy 
house-building. But although there were unfinished tene- 
ments all about him, with the arrival of workmen’s hours 
their building tools were silent. As the morning advanced 
people began to appear in their best clothes, and soon he 
saw staid Quakers wending their orderly way to their place 
of meeting. The sense of passing time recurred to him 
and he remembered it was Sunday. In a listless mood he 
sauntered after and followed the Friends into their meeting 
house, which had been changed to convenient proximity 
from the house of Thomas Fairman at Shackamaxon, 
given up to the use of Governor Penn. 


Ebb a Borjesoft. 


501 

When the weary victim of frantic jealousy took his seat 
among the quiet Quakers he was scarcely conscious of the 
act. Following his fierce disquiet had come a brief stupor, 
from which he began to emerge with much of the soreness 
and quaking apprehension of a confirmed inebriate after a 
night of fearful dissipation. But as he beheld the calm 
faces of the Friends, and felt something of the contagious 
stillness of their inward spirit-communions, he began 4;o 
feel that he had never before known the reality of silence, 
or of the peace born of it. It was not a mere absence of 
noise, but the very soul of embodied stillness, a lulling 
quiet that by subtle indirection engrossed the spirit. With 
its indwelling essence it seemed to possess a palpable; out- 
standing, encroaching quality, at once a brooding and in- 
sinuating hush that banished the very sense of strife. The 
slightest temporary noise seemed a reverberating loudness 
that left a deeper silence. The hum of bees and twitter of 
birds through the open windows, the murmur of swaying 
tree-tops and touching branches against the building, the 
rustle of intruding air from leafy surroundings, the cawing 
of vociferous crows without and patter of venturesome squir- 
rels within, even the pestering buzz of the omnipresent 
house-flies on that warm June morning seemed but so 
many measurements of the solemnly charmed quiet. 

Nor did greater disturbance come from louder noise; for 
when at length a neighboring pet fawn with an introduc- 
tory crackling of dried brush, ventured through the open 
door and timidly, as if in fear of its own steps, stole toward 
the gallery with the lure of sheltering quiet, not even the 
resounding clatter of the creature’s sudden exit brought 
more than a ripple to the smooth profundity of the stillness. 
So there in that early opening in the wilderness, hushed 
in nature’s mighty forest with its peace, its mystery, its 
awe, the simple worshipers felt themselves verily alone 
with God. No gorgeous temple, no man-made shrine to 
them so sacred as that primal altar before which, with no 
intermediate let, they could be as little children face to 
face with the Infinite Father. 

But such utter hush may not more lull the spirit to ineff- 
able peace than mock its disquiet. For all the more awe 
then to the uncloaked soul with its burden of strife and 
guilt and shame, when gilded screens avail not and sub- 
terfuge takes flight. And so the sufferer may at first find 
his cross the heavier for the revealing silence— may be 
more disturbed than comforted by the all-reaching voice of 
the Father. So, indeed, felt Rupert Fairfield as he sat with 


502 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


gradually quieting spirit and deeply bowed head in his chance 
place among the solemn Quakers. But he valiantly fought 
the good fight, and seemed nearing victory, when, upon 
looking up as two aged Friends were about to make the 
dismissing shake of hands, he saw the face of Ebba Borje- 
son ! With a choking thump his heart leaped to his throat. 
He had not thought of her being anywhere else than in 
Christine. For he did not know that as the party were 
about to return home her brother Arvid had suddenly ap- 
peared and induced her to remain over Sunday to see the 
town and attend Quaker meeting. 

Uncle Gabe and other friends were with Ebba, but he 
saw her alone. She had seen him, too, and as their 
glances met, had given him a smile of recognition. And 
such a smile ! It had never seemed so fascinating, so 
heavenly ! But was it not heavenly delirium; fascinating 
fatality, for him? In his present stress he felt that he 
must not, dare not meet her. For once timel}' flight 
seemed truest valor, and with averted face and quiet steps 
he skirted aside of the departing Friends and hurried 
away. As he went the vision of her last smile came to 
him. He fancied there was just a shade of latent appeal 
in it ; he recalled her gracious mien, her gentle considera- 
tion for him. He checked his course; he hesitated; he re- 
versed his steps with an impulse to fly to her. Then sud- 
denly he remembered the taunting interchange of fond 
confidences between Ebba and Okowela; “delicious 
poison !’’ he cried with a moan, and turning, again plunged 
into the forest. 


CHAPTER LXX. 

Whither he went or what he did in his wanderings Ru- 
pert Fairfield had little idea. Nor, perhaps, was he more 
conscious of any immediate definable longings in his sore 
disquietude. But both in the soothing calm of Quaker 
ways and in the push and noise of their building opera- 
tions, he seemed to find what was best suited to his oppos- 
ing needs. So he roamed restlessly about the town, and 
when the loneliest recesses of the bordering forest did not 
resound with his devious steps, the housebuilders saw 
among them a wild-eyed stranger, with fine bearing and 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


503 


despoiled garments, who would sometimes seat himself to 
watch their work from a tree stump in a central avenue, 
and at others wind with uneasy steps among half-finished 
structures and disappear as hurriedly as he came. 

Thus it had continued for a fortnight, and now for the 
third time the roving Virginian seated himself among the 
Quakers in their “ First-day Meeting.” On this occasion 
it was not wholly a silent meeting, as the others had been, 
for, after a long period of deepest stillness a low female 
voice, with a mild tremor, rose on the air, ” Blessed are the 
poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” so 
spoke the sweet voice of wonderful sympathy and soft pre- 
cision, quoting Christ’s words; “Blessed are they that 
mourn,” it continued, “for they shall be comforted. 
Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth. 
Blessed are the peace-makers ; for they shall be called the 
children of God.” 

Pausing a moment the speaker added in still lower tones, 
as of trying diffidence, “ These precious words surely need 
no exposition. They shine with their own light, even the 
light of the Father, wherein walketh the Son in all fullness, 
who teacheth all things and exemplifyeth the way thereof, 
bringing what is needful for the lofty and the lowly and 
giving the bread of life with joy everlasting alike to babes 
and men. Ye have heard,” resumed the still quoting 
preacher, “ that it was said by them of old time, ‘Thou 
shalt not kill ; and whosoever shall kill, shall be in danger 
of the judgriient : But I say unto you that whosoever is 
angry with his brother without a cause, shall be in danger 
of the judgment.’ ” 

Then with still briefer comments the soft-voiced 
preacher besought all to apply to every-day life the injunc- 
tion “ be 3^e perfect,” with universal charity for brotherly 
shortcomings, and sat down quoting “ Judge not that ye be 
not judged.” 

It all went home to Rupert Fairfield ; the more directly 
for the chance exemplifier of the spirit’s victory at hand. 
For near the speaker as she resumed her seat sat a beauti- 
ful young Quakeress, in whose saintly face he fancied he 
saw mirrored the peace of the performed injunction in all its 
holy triumph. Instead of the puerile beauty of inexperi- 
ence the face bore traces of self-conflict, and it seemed so 
forceful with the calm of a conquered peace that Rupert 
felt its helpful contagion as a very embodiment and model 
of the self-victory which he must achieve or perish. 
“ Whosoever is angry with his brother without cause,” he 


504 


Ebb a Boi'jeson. 


repeated. Had he been angry with his rival without just 
cause? Whatever the honest answer, he began to feel at 
peace with himself. Whether it was the peace preceding 
renewed hope, or the sullen calm of despair, it seemed to 
recall his true self and with it, cool reflection. What, 
then, was the sensible course for him? Plainly to dare all 
without delay or take himself out of the way of tempta- 
tion. He was the victim of inaction ; and to gloat his 
jealousy with the sight or thought of his rival was simply 
self-murder. The true soldier will take the chances and 
manfully accept the results of battle ; only a dolt of a 
madman will thrust himself into needless danger without 
actual share in the conflict. 

Which, then, should he be ; a hero bearing unavoidable 
suffering without whining, or a poor fool making himself a 
target for self-seeking torture? His choice ma}^ be guessed 
by the circumstance of his immediate disappearance alike 
from Philadelphia and Christine; and further guessing 
might be aided, perhaps, by the fact that as the Virginian 
was passing out of the last meeting he chanced to over- 
hear certain remarks of Friends near him, from which he 
gathered that the beautiful young Quakeress he had seen 
was to make her home with Caleb Pusey at the new Ches- 
ter mills. 

Promptly appearing at Cooper’s island to obtain some of 
his clothing, he started off, telling Uncle Gabe he might 
not return before the next week. He did not return the 
next week, nor for many succeeding weeks. Whither he 
had gone no one knew, although it was reported within a 
fortnight that he had been seen at the new mill on Chester 
creek, while one of the Fish Hawk excursionists, returning 
some days later from an errand to Chester, wondered if 
Mr. Fairfield was not “ goin’ to jine them Quakers, seein’ 
he’s so much with the Quaker miller.” 

But whatever his intentions or whereabouts it is certain 
that Rupert P'airfield kept away trom Christine. Month 
after month elapsed and still he did not return. And thus 
there seemed fewer than the usual incidents to break the 
sleepy routine of the little settlement. The fast growing 
blindness of Pastor Fabricus having incapacitated him for 
further duty, Crane-hook church was closed, and only at 
long intervals did its log walls awaken to sounds of wor- 
ship. These Sunday services had at least relieved what 
sometimes seemed the growing monotony of her frontier 
life; and Ebba mi.ssed their simple solace more than she 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


505 

could have thought possible, when sometimes provoked 
with their empty formality. 

All the greater urgency she felt to busy herself with 
the simple duties of her home and surroundings. With 
new plans and new zeal she devoted herself to the instruc- 
tion and amusement of the children. She went oftener 
with Uncle Gabe upon his timely visits in aid of the sick 
and suffering people of the neighborhood, and several 
times she accompanied him when making his regular er- 
rands to the new mill, where they were alwa5'S assured of 
a cordial welcome from Friend Pusey, who refreshed 
them with home-brews and pleasant talk under the rustic 
porch of the mill while their grists were being ground. 
And sometimes when belated by perverse winds or threaten- 
ing weather they were prevailed upon to stay over night, 
when Mother Pusey, with her gentle wa^^s, joined in their 
longer entertainment in that new stone mansion which was 
an architectural wonder in those primitive days. 

In such wise the second summer of Ebba’s life in 
America was quietly passing, when something occurred to 
vary its monotony. In mid-August, after many bright 
still days and close foggy nights, there came a prolonged 
storm of furious wind and deluging rains, followed by a re- 
port that the Chester creek mill and dam had been swept away 
by the flood. Upon hastening to the scene of the disaster 
Uncle Gabe had found scarcely a vestige left of the costly 
improvements. But the miller, being less occupied with 
regret than hope, was specially concerned for the speed^^ 
re-building of the mill. It was an emergency where the 
clear head of the islander could at once take in the situa- 
tion, and his bigger heart prompt the way out of it. He 
took Friend Pusey in the Sea Gull to Philadelphia for con- 
sultation with Governor Penn, one of the largest of the 
mill company’s ten stockholders. To better judge of the mat- 
ter on the spot the Quaker chief accompanied the couple on 
their return, and late the same evening the Founder of the 
province sat before a broad open fire-place in deep consul- 
tation with his host and coadjutor in that still standing 
stone dwelling on Chester creek, where the ruddy hearth- 
flames revealed its low ceiling, its ax-marked beams and 
its plain dark furniture as well as the anxious faces of the 
plainly-garbed counsellors. It was not the first or last 
time the two men there conferred, nor the first or last time 
their conference was prolonged by the difficulties there 
-considered. 


5o6 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Yes, Caleb,” finally resumed Penn, “I unite witk 
thee in thinking the race should be constructed nozv as 
wise economy in the end.” 

“ ’Tis a choice, methinks,” said Caleb, “ between that 
course and a repetition of the disaster. For without such 
relief from above I doubt if any dam I can build here will 
long avail against the floods converging between these 
lofty hills.” 

“ In which judgment I quite agree with thee after look- 
ing the ground carefully over. But considering the time 
needed for the work, and to consult our scattered share- 
holders, I see not what better we can do than rebuild with- 
out the race. And if the new dam be placed a little higher 
up at the stronger spot thee suggests, and the rebuilding 
vigorously pushed forward, methinks the emergency will 
best be met; for with our fast growing needs time is of first 
importance.” 

When next day Gabriel Van Onkelbach, after taking 
back the Governor to Philadelphia, was returning home- 
ward, he descried off Verdrietige Hook — Edgemoor — a 
group of fine ships standing up the Delaware. By hailing he 
found them bearing the long-expected Daniel Pastorius 
and Friends from Kriesheim, who came to build a German 
town in Pennsylvania. 

To a group of eager listeners the returned skipper 
rapidly recounted the story of his absence, concluding 
with — 

“ Und zo mit dis learned vamous Pastorius und follow- 
ers, ve Hollanders get blenty relations — German half- 
broders in der vilderness all der vhile, metinks.” 

“ The more the merrier,” saib Ebba, “if they be like 
their kindly forerunner of the lowlands, or half as nobly 
unselfish.” 

“Cousin! O cousin Ebba!” called the trooping chil- 
dren, covering Uncle Gabe’s confusion as he pushed out 
for his home. 

But their usually ready comrade was now in no mood 
for the desired romp; for her gladness was sobered by self- 
scrutiny at the mingled tenderness and awe through which 
came anew sense of the simple islander’s bigness of heart 
and loyalty of soul. 


Ebba Borjeson. 


507 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

It was a quiet and uneventful winter that followed. 
The simple settlers seemed torpid amid the peace and 
plenty of their humble homes. With a sleepy content so 
destitute of aspiration Ebba had grown impatient. Life 
of some kind there must be, she felt, to avert physical 
stagnation and mental death: and it taxed her resources 
to escape , serious spells of depression with all her 
performance of duty. Then it was that taunting visions 
of the old home in Sweden resumed their perspective 
of tender regret, and she found herself oftener dwelling 
upon the circumstances of Halvor’s farewell, which 
strangely enough connected themselves with Rupert Fair- 
field and his disappearance. 

But at last there was to be a chance of some relief from 
the prolonged dullness: for the news quickly spread 
through the settlement that the next session of the 
General Assembly was to be held at New Castle, which 
Governor Penn would attend in person. The colonial 
dead calm was actually stirred into something like breezy 
interest, and the coming and consequences of the event 
became the subject of growing neighborhood talk, to 
which all other topics were sure to lead. Of course Uncle 
Gabe was in a bustle of anticipatory glee; and for 
days he had been adjusting lists of passengers for an 
offered sail to witness the beginning of an event which all 
now impatiently awaited. 

And thus it was that on the • morning of the tenth 
of March, 1684, a boat load of settlers, in charge of skip- 
per Van Onkelbach and boatswain Cabot, swept out of the 
Christina before a stiff breeze and bore away for the his- 
toric town of New Castle. Others crossed the Christina 
by the five-year-old public ferry which continued to 
be the pride of the settlement, and made their way by 
overland roads and pathways to the centre of attraction; 
so that there was soon a goodly representation from the 
most ancient settlement on the Delaware to what had 
been before the coming of Penn the largest and most 
important town upon its shores. 


5o8 


Ebba Borjeson. 


In due time the session was formally opened in the 
presence of the Governor, and its proceedings, with little 
hindrance from initiator}^ delay, were pushed forward 
with orderly celerit3^ The wise Founder had made 
peace and concord his leading and determined policy 
from the beginning. To this end he had purchased his 
province both from the English King and from its native 
occupants. For this purpose he had offered equal oppor- 
tunities to his persecutors and his followers in his broad 
domain. With such object he had not questioned the red 
men’s primitive notions of civil recompense, but promptly 
conceded whatever was demanded b}^ them. With the 
same motive and to the same end he had granted 
the prayer of the lower territories for union, with equal 
rights and upon an equal footing, with the chief Province 
of Pennsylvania; he had listened to clamors for separation 
from the same agitators to whom the union had been 
granted, and in the same spirit of conciliation he had con- 
vened this General Assembh^ at New Castle as a con- 
cession to the malcontents who had sown disaffection and 
refused to pay taxes. 

It was with an odd mixture of curious interest and 
happy unconcern that the visitors from Christine watched 
the proceedings. But it was with more pronounced 
emotions that at least two of the party witnessed what 
was now to occur. It had been with some difficulty that 
Ebba had suppressed a yawn or two over the somewhat 
dry routine of legislation which had continued for some 
hours, when suddenly her attention, with that of the 
whole audience, was arrested by a voice issuing from a sort 
of vestibule of the hall. Instant silence ensued, and 
Ebba recognizing the mellow tones and courtly manner of 
Governor Penn, leaned eagerly forward to catch the 
speaker’s words. 

“If it please the General Assembly and council, I 
recommend that we now consider the case of Andrew 
Johnson and Hans Peterson, betwixt whom there is a 
pending difference, which hath been referred to us for 
final decision.’’ . 

Assent being evinced by silence the speaker resumed: 

“The plaintiff and defendant will step forward and 
make their respective statements; and they will be careful 
to speak only the simple truth in the plainest way as if on 
the judgment day in the divine presence.’’ 

Two large men with bleached hair and sun-browned 
faces of Swedish cast of features, appeared with a hesi- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 509 

tating air, and advanced with awkward steps to Penn’s 
immediate presence. 

“Friend Andrew,’’ resumed the Governor, “we will 
hear thee first as plaintiff in this matter. ’ ’ 

“Put him on his oath,’’ cried a husky voice from 
among the by-standers, “ or ye’ll ketch a lyin’ mess of 
it. I’ll warrant ye.’’ 

Penn turned a face of mild reproof in the direction of 
the interloping speaker, and then with a nod of encourage- 
ment to the plaintiff, gently resumed: 

“ Please proceed, Andrew.’’ 

But this was easier said than done; for after making 
more than one futile effort to begin, the man stammered 
forth a few broken sentences and before he could be 
intelligibly heard the words seemed to choke in his throat. 

“Courage and calmness now, Andrew,” resumed 
the Governor in a helpful voice, his penetrating eye the 
while fixed intently upon the embarrassed litigant, ‘ ‘ free 
thy mind; speak only truth and the truth shall make 
thee free.’’ 

Again the man essayed to speak and again he failed. 
For although the few words of his second utterance were 
better understood, he seemed to grow the more confused 
with their distinctness and presently ceased speaking. 
Again a voice from the outside called aloud: 

“ Swear him tight on the Bible.” 

Apparently without hearing or heeding the cry, Penn 
calmly observed, “ ‘Swear not at all;’ this is the divine 
command; and ^surely thee can testify more truly by obey- 
ing than disobe3dng so plain an injunction. Andrew 
Johnson, do thou look me frankly in the face ! thou art 
among friends — friends of justice; thou hast nothing to 
fear unless thou fearest justice. Be just and fear not. 
Speak the truth; and if thou shalt thus forfeit earthly ad- 
vantage thou shalt reap heaven’s eternal gain.’’ 

The man’s shifting attitude and facial change of color in- 
dicated the power of his self-struggle, while the witness- 
ing assemblage and onlookers became hushed in deepest 
silence. Ebba had looked on with breathless attention, 
and her interest had now grown so absorbing that only a 
deeper tinge in her flushed face showed that she rather felt 
than saw the approach of Okowela, who now joined their 
party. But a still more interested spectator was their good 
friend and chaperon, Gabriel Van Onkelbach, who had in 
vain volunteered his insistent friendliness in trying to 
reconcile the bitter contestants; notably so at the May- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


510 

day festival. And when presently the affiant, upon recov- 
ing his speech, completed his required statement, the 
kindly peace-maker could not repress his astonishment at 
its altered tone and milder demands in comparison with 
the passionate pleas of his former complaint. But if Uncle 
Gabe wondered at the conciliatory alteration in the plain- 
tiffs statement he was not less gladly surprised to find 
presently a corresponding change in the mitigated response 
of the defendant. 

“ Veil, py all der angels ov grace !” he exclaimed, “dot 
beats me. Py vhat sveet sorcery does dis Quager so trans- 
form dese schildren ov hate dot dey forget dere olden quar- 
rels ?’’ 

Upon the conclusion of the respondent’s statement Gov- 
ernor Penn turned for a brief consultation with his attend- 
ing council and then quietly arose and addressed the As- 
sembly. 

“Friends, ye have heard the statements of the parties' 
respectively : have ye aught to say ?’ ’ There being no 
response, Penn directed the Plaintiff and Defendant to 
stand up together, and then in a voice of mild solemrity 
addressed them : 

“ Andrew Johnson and Hans Peterson, it is our urgent 
advice that ye shake hands and forgive one another. And 
it is ordered that ye enter into bonds of fifty pounds 
apiece for your good abearance.’’ 

With an instant glance of querying hesitation the two 
men grasped each other’s hands, and with friendly assur- 
ances and mutual promises of future good-will, at once 
signed and delivered the bonds required of them, in the 
presence of the silent assembly. Whereupon the Quaker 
Governor, with extended hands, besought continued at- 
tention, while with a slight tremor of voice and a gravely 
beaming face he announced—^ 

“It is further ordered that all the records of Court con- 
cerning this business be forthwith burned I And thus as we 
purge our hearts of enmity, be its accusing trail wiped 
from earthly memory.’’ 

“ Brafo und amen!’’ exclaimed Uncle Gabe, unable 
longer to restrain himself ; and for a few moments a low 
hum of congratulatory talk succeeded among the Assembly 
and onlookers alike. Of the latter, the boating party 
from Christine, with the young chief, Okowela, were thus 
engaged in rejoicing chat a little aside, when suddenly 
they were disturbed by a shuffling movement and loud 
cries near at hand. 


^ Ebb a Borjeson. 


511 

“ Canting stuff and nonsense !” exclaimed a scornful 
voice, and simultaneously Rupert Fairfield stood before 
them. 

“ Vhy, mein Rupe !” cried Uncle Gabe, making a move- 
ment as for warm greeting, “ vhere ye vas, und — ” but 
Rupert lifted a deterring hand and stood with a fixed hard 
stare of defiance. His face was flushed, his hair dishev- 
elled and his whole appearance betrayed frenzied despera- 
tion. With scowling brows he scanned each of the party 
and finally riveted his fierce eyes upon the face of 
Okowela, while his hot breath hissed between his teeth. 
The young chief with erect mien and folded arms calmly 
returned his gaze, and the rest for a moment seemed si- 
lenced as in breathless awe at the ominous intensity with 
which the two men surveyed each other. 

“ You here, of course,’’ he burst forth in husky rage ; 
“ O, ’tis but shameless consistency that blanketed savages 
should herd with civilized maidens when levelling heretics 
confound social distinctions, defy birth and breeding and 
overturn the prescribed laws of God and man ! Such 
pretentious peace-mongering, such sentimental bathos is 
fit for the puling pitiful sycophants who have neither the 
spirit to fight for themselves nor the taste to choose their 
company. Bah ! away with — I scorn the — the — ’ ’ the words 
of the furious man, as if accelerated by their own utterance, 
had rushed forth with maddening rapidity until the swell- 
ing torrent had seemingly choked off their further flow ; 
when, as if driven by an unappeased demon he turned and 
rushed away as abruptly as he had appeared, leaving the 
party to exchange mute looks of startled enquiry with 
each other. 

The other proceedings of the body need no mention 
here. Whatever their nature it may well be doubted if 
they included anything more salutary or durable in its 
effects than the peace achievement related. Another of 
similar character, with more legislation of commoner 
kind, and the brief session of the General Assembly was 
over. Rupert Fairfield did not re-appear before its ad- 
journment, and both the great public event and the per- 
sonal episode, albeit the latter evoked sundry explanatory 
surmises among its witnesses, promised soon to recede 
into the forgotten past. Yet the simple colonists found 
more than one cause for holding the legislative session at 
New Castle in kindly remembrance. The greatest was the 
friendly visit paid by Governor Penn personally among 
the planters, the humbler settlers and the commoner 


512 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


people at large, not less than among the more prominent 
personages of these lower river settlements. Immediately 
following the conclusion of the Assembly’s sittings many 
an humble goodman and modest house-wife, busy in their 
several occupations, received an unexpected call from the 
affable Quaker ruler, who plied them with kindly queries 
touching their daily affairs and charmed them with the 
sympathetic interest he manifested in their common wel- 
fare. 

Completing thus a round of visits among the people of 
New Castle, the Governor was taken by Gabriel Van On- 
kelbach to the settlement at Christine. Going first to the 
historic landing place of the pioneer Swedes, Penn ex- 
amined the ruins of Fort Christina and gazed with deep 
interest upon the little rock}’ promontory upon which had 
been securely laid the structural foundations of a new 
civil life nearly half a century before his own advent to 
the New World. 

From a spot so steeped in germinal history the Quaker 
Governor was led by an escort of a character not usual in 
gubernatorial ceremonials. For Ebba had taken the chil- 
dren out to the old rocky wharf to give them a sight of 
the mighty man of peace and purchase, who had succeeded 
to those rulers of force and fuss, of whom grandma had 
talked so much. And so it was that when the Governor 
unexpectedly intimated his wish to pay his respects to 
dame Signild, and actually began turning his steps in the 
direction of her house, there was a sudden patter of youth- 
ful feet marshaled as a vanguard. And brief as was the 
improvised march the procession was in growing danger of 
breaking ranks, because the raw volunteers heading the 
column, filled with mingled joy and consternation, could 
hardly be restrained from taking flight to give warning of 
the impending siege. 

But the besieging Governor, once over the threshhold, 
speedily conquered his wonted peace; while the conquered 
dame as speedily forgot her hospitable indignation at being 
taken aback without “ givin’ a body no time to git ready.” 
For the Quaker ruler, with persuasive tact, was soon 
launched in an engrossing conversation with the delighted 
hostess all about her poultry, her garden products, her 
preserves and her domestic interests in general, and was 
even good enough to partake of a smorgas of dried veni- 
son and home-made flipp, pending her busy preparations 
for a meal fit for the Governor of a great Province which 
had taken in all the ancient lower territories. 


Ebba Borjeson. 


515 

While dame Signild was thus employed, the Governor, 
after tasting of the preliminary food and drink, alternately 
talked with ^)bba and turned his attention to the all-won- 
dering children. Taking the youngest on his lap he spoke 
a few apt words to each, smoothed their bleached locks, 
praised their ruddy health, and asked about their plays and 
their studies. And when, after dinner, the visitor, compli- 
menting the old lady upon the excellence of her meal, 
had taken his leave, the proud hostess declared that she 
had always welcomed them ‘ ‘ as spit on the floor and made 
theirselves so sociable,” but that ” there went one as, with- 
out leavin’ them marks o’ friendship, had been that agreer 
able and sympathetic and insinuatin’ like as made a body 
forgit he didn’t profess the true Augsburg faith and was 
only anon-conformin’ broad-brim.” 

” Mercy o’ me,” continued the old dame, ” what can a 
body make of a people as practice better than they preach? 
For on my conscience, now, these Quakers be in danger o’ 
doin’ right without help o’ creed or clergy, which they’ll 
none of for theirselves but allow to all sects as want ’em.” 

” Do they not in this,” queried Ebba, ” simply obej’^the 
golden rule to permit to others the same rights of con- 
science as they claim for themselves?” 

“But dear heart! the Governor does more; for when 
I told him of our religious destitution — told him how long 
we have been without church services because bur pastor 
had been a-growin’ blinder and blinder, and how our 
prayer-books and bibles and catechisms was fast wearin’ 
out, now what, of all things, think ye this Quaker ruler 
answered?” 

“ Offered Quaker books instead, perchance, or advised 
us all to become Quakers T 

“ Nay, nay, an it please ye, he said he had more ’n a 
year ago requested the Swedish government to supply all 
religious needs for our own blessed Lutheran service; and 
he promised to urge it on ’em again through the Swedish 
embassy in London. And I just tell ye, things 
is gittin’ so mixed through so much toleration 
and liberty o’ conscience and what not, that I don’t 
know what’s to become o’ the true Lutheran faith with its 
strict rules and high authority. And now for my part I 
can only bless the good Lord for my early learning of the 
catechism and confirmation by our good Bishop in dear old 
Sweden afore gropin’ in the darkness o’ this heathen land; 
and as I was a-sayin’ to old dame Thekla I just be — ” 


33 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


5M 

But as the loquacious dame was beginning to warm with 
her talk she suddenly ceased upon discovering that she 
was alone; for Ebba had quietly stolen out to answer some 
demand of the children. 

Meanwhile, Governor Penn was making calls upon the 
Staelcops, the Van der Veres, the Stidhams and other 
families of the early settlers. At the conclusion of these 
he spent the night with Gabriel Van Onkelbach at his is- 
land home. It can hardly be necessary to speak of the 
joy with which Uncle Gabe entertained his distinguished 
visitor. He was scarcely more in sympathy with Penn’s 
enlightened aims in settling his Province than was the 
great Founder with the hearty honesty, the scholarly 
tastes and simply noble character which he promptly rec- 
ognized in the Dutch islander. Upon divers subjects of 
mutual interest they kept up a busy conversation far into 
the night, and next morning, upon taking final leave, the 
Quaker guest cordially besought an early return visit from 
his host. More than all, the Governor had been so pleased 
with the beauty and performance of the Sea Gull that he 
delighted its builder and captain with an order for a family 
barge of somewhat similar character. 


CHAPTER LXXII. 

What with the social stir left by Penn’s personal visits, 
and the business stir imparted by his ordering a barge 
built at the ancient boat yard of the historic little isle, the 
habitual lethargy of the settlement was effectually banished 
for a time. Spring pushed on as in busy sympathy, and 
after Uncle Gabe ushered in the first of May with his 
usual sun-rise hymn, there were added to the farm sounds 
of the mainland the island rattle of boat-builders by day 
and the music of the islander’s song and lute at night. 
When with this it was reported that the Provincial Council 
which had met, with the assembly, at New Castle was to re- 
convene there in June, it seemed that the old colony’s 
dreams of repose might almost give way to dreams of am- 
bition. 

Meanwhile, glad tidings reached them from the opposite 
direction. For they had completed the re-building of the 
grist mill swept away on Chester creek, and long waiting 
grists were being collected for a trip to replenish much- 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


515 

reduced family supplies. When the islander found him- 
self next day at the helm of the Sea Gull, careering up 
the river upon a volunteer mission for the public conven- 
/-ience, his gladness at so much good fortune seemed a boy- 
ish glee with a wild propensity for riotous exultation. 
With this there mingled a quieter feeling of simple grati- 
tude. and perhaps a half-conscious wish to gratify some 
roguish curiosity. For besides his desire to see the new 
works on Chester creek, he was hardly less curious to see 
the Quaker lassie already famous for her beauty, who had 
come to live in the family of Caleb Pusey, and who, it was 
rumored, was in some mysterious way connected with Ru- 
pert Fairfield’s erratic behavior. 

But a more obvious cause fpr the skipper’s present high 
'Spirits was the presence of Ebba and the whole coterie of 
younger children, the latter being in joyous realization of 
a long standing promise that they should take a big-folks 
trip up the great bright river whose distant gleam had long 
excited their childish wonder. With something like awe 
they get the sense of its watery expansion, with gleeful 
shouts their young hearts catch the spirit of its flashing 
waves; with quickened pulses they watch for the out- 
springing sturgeon which sometimes shoot from directly 
under their boat and threaten to plunge into it; and 
while so watching with young delight they themselves are 
not less joyously watched by the fatherly eyes of the care- 
taking skipper, whose fresh heart is ever in sympathy with 
youth. 

Through the skill of that great navigator they at length 
double the grove and lawn of the Essex House and begin 
the windings of Chester creek. But while the Sea Gull is 
thus engaged and her sailors are preparing for the tedious 
passage of the Twin Whales against perverse elements, 
the reader is invited to an adVance glimpse of her destina- 
tion, where he will meet some old friends. 

Caleb Pusey had been making sundry experimental ad- 
justments of the rebuilt mill, and when at length every- 
thing was working to his satisfaction, took a seat with 
some weariness in the little mill office overlooking the 
creek approach from down the stream. He had not been 
long seated before there came a rap at the office door. To 
the miller’s mild invocation to “walk in, please,’’ there 
came a loud double bang, instantly followed by Rupert 
Fairfield in unkempt locks and desperate appearance. He 
could hardly have himself recounted his various wander- 
ings, but after his passionate ebullition and sudden disap- 


Ebb a Boi'jcson. 


Si6 

pearance at New Castle he was vagiiel}^ conscious of hav- 
ing gone to old dame Thekla to gather from that, reputed 
sorceress a foretaste of his desperate fortune with Ebba. 

Following this, in his mad craving to pierce the veiled x 
future, Rupert had dallied with fate by such idle artifices 
as to say to himself in his rovings, “ if my last step to 
yonder tree or rock be with my right foot all is well — if 
with my left, come disasters dire.’’ Or with a doubtful 
person or object seen in the distance to augur well if upon 
approach the result support one of two guesses, and ill if 
the other. But wearying at length of such palterings with 
blind fatality, the half-crazed wanderer sought the calm 
Quaker with mingled and contesting motives, of which the 
victim was himself scarcely conscious. It was not the first 
time he had sought the steadying quiet and helpfnl 
strength of Friend Pusey, while it had been suspected 
that a softer solace vaguely hoped for from the miller’s 
fair sojourner at the house, may have had an equal share 
in inducing the Virginian’s visits. Whatever the motive 
the visitor on this occasion was distraught with an un- 
usual degree of self-infliction. In a scoffing mood he 
vented his disgust at the world’s mockeries and railed at 
civilization as a sham and religion as a delusion. The 
Quaker listened in pitying silence while his visitor raved 
on in growing loudness of voice, defiantly closing with — 

“There’s no such thing as virtue or truth in this miser- 
able world. They’re but bait for milk-sops; and as for 
religion, bah ! what has so cursed mankind as this long- 
voiced faith, with its vaunted salvation, its virulent per- 
secutions and its bloody wars of propagation ?’ ’ 

“ My young friend,” replied the Quaker in a quieting 
voice, “nothing in this world is bad in and of itself What 
is called such is but the overflow or abuse of the good; and 
the nobler and higher the thing abused the sadder and 
deadlier the resulting evil.” 

‘ ‘ How ? Can crime and pestilence ever be good ? Mean 
you to sa}^ that murder, that — that — ” 

“ I mean to say simply that a benign and Infinite 
Father inflicts no evil upon his children. I mean to say 
that our lives are of a dual nature, made up of coupled 
conditions of light and darkness, joy and sorrow, with an 
endowment of reason to make or mar our fortunes; and 
that disease and crime, nay, all our miseries result from 
perversion of faculties, functions or attributes which might 
have been shaped to good ends.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


517 


“ Believe you not, then, in the Orthodox creed of origi- 
nal sin and damnation ? Reject ye the universal Christian 
beliet that God delights in the misery of unrepentant man 
and consigns him in his wrath to endless torment?” 

” I believe the Father so loved men that in the 
beginning He gave them of his divine light, implant- 
ing in the soul of every man the seed of his own salva- 
tion.” 

” Dispense ye, then, with the interceding Christ?” 

” Nay, His was the divine fullness that maketh in- 
cession; through our precious Exemplar the Son we 
come to the Father ; and the way is so lighted that all 
may walk therein.” 

” But if all things were created for good whence comes 
evil.” 

” Through man’s tran.sgression.” 

” Ah, that old pious tale for naughty children; the 
story of the banishment from Eden.” 

” Aye; and be it literal, allegorical or what3'e will, that 
simple story embodies an imperishable truth. It shows 
the curse of perverted blessings. As is the height so is 
the depth. In proportion as endowment and opportunity 
rightly used produce good, when misused entail evil. Fire 
and water are our faithful friends and our destroying ene- 
mies; they supply our urgent needs and they afflict us 
with pitiless flame and flood; in supply they are good, in 
excess evil. But as well condemn these essential elements 
because of their blind ravages as reject religion because 
blinder madness distorts its holy comforts to hellish 
curses. In the beginning all was good in 'unity; with diso- 
bedience came hurtful and helpful forces in dual present- 
ment, when all things must bear their mixed burden of 
good and evil. And as there are no rude or low peoples 
in the world without elemental fire » and water, so none 
have been found without rudimentary ideas of religion. 
Wherever found it is capable of loftiest good or lowest 
evil according as it is used or misused. 

” But why,” persisted Rupert, “should notan omnipo- 
tent and all-merciful creator show his creatures the right 
way once for all, and so rescue us from all besetting evil?” 

“ For the same reason, methinks, that our tutor suffered 
us at school to stumble and struggle on over our intricate 
problems instead of disclosing to us at once their quick 
and easy solution. Difficulties overcome are lasting self- 
tuition ;' difficulties shunned or made easy are a trivial les- 
son speedily forgotten. It is by facing not fleeing from 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


518 

obstacles that we cease to be spoon-fed weaklings-— thus 
we grow to be rational self-helping creatures ; and it is not 
real kindness to save us from the requisite ordeal. Dear 
young friend, in the inscrutable wisdom of Divine Provi- 
dence existence confronts us in linked counterparts — sem- 
blance and substance, form and spirit. Our visible life is 
coupled with the life invisible and more vital. Its earthly 
course is marked by lights and shadows, by growth and 
decay, and through all our devious pathway we have the 
ever-attending Tempter on the one hand and Truth on the 
other, with the ever-pressing injunction to ‘ choose ye.’” 

“ And call you this infinite and merciful wisdom in the 
Father to set good and evil equally before his erring chil- 
dren ?” 

“It is the ordained cost of knowledge. Man chose it 
when first he tas.ted of the forbidden fruit. Turning away 
from the Father’s Light he was assigned to self-instruction 
and forced to learn from his own experience. It is thus 
that price and penalty are linked with privilege, and duty 
is coupled with opportunity — thus that we learn to swim at 
the risk of drowning, that the burnt child avoids the fire, 
that pain goes with pleasure, and we reach joy through 
tribulation. Friend Rupert, whatsoever thy trials or trou- 
bles thou sharest but the common lot. To bear the cross 
in some shape is to win back the lost crown. Without the 
sweat and burden the crown if seized will turn to ashes. 
Follow Truth where’er it leadeth. ’Tis but the craven 
and weakly who crouch within paternal harborage in fear 
of the stormy liberty of God's great ocean. Life is one 
prolonged contest, and the price of victory is brave per- 
sistence in the battle.” 

‘ ‘ Battle ! I thought you Quakers were excellence the 
votaries of peace.” 

“Such we strive ‘to be. Ours is the inward conflict 
which precludeth the outward. To put up the sword of the 
flesh is to unsheath the sword of the spirit. So, strife with 
ourselves averts it from our fellows, and ensures peace 
among men. If every one were master of himself love 
would conquer hate and there could be no war nor cause 
for war.” 

“ But with such philosophy of religion what say you of 
religious doubt and justification by faith ?” 

” Faith and doubt are both essential. Faith is the 
soul’s rock and anchorage alike against the storms of 
doubt and the wiles of the Tempter, and it rewards its 
votaries in cause and effect. But hardly less needful 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


519 


is honest doubt which winnoweth faith. Through doubt we 
diligently search, sound, and rear the firm structure upon 
tested foundations. We are bidden to prove all things that 
we may hold fast to that which is good. But the professional 
doubter is as narrow and silly as the prating believer who 
vaunts his wordy faith in lieu of worthy following of 
Jesus. Surely, of two travelers lost in a wilderness, 
the one who zealously strives to find the way out is more 
sensible than his skeptical companion, who idly sneers 
at the exit proposed by his friend without searching for a 
better one himself. However far from truth, the honest 
seeker therefor, walking in simple faith albeit with little 
learning, findeth truer justification and safer haven than 
the learned scoffer who in the pride of his scholarship 
mereh^ vaunts his denial. Friend Rupert, be honest with 
thyself. Before calling religion a delusion be sure thou art 
not thyself deluded. Devoutest worship oft cometh from 
the honest doubt impelling faithful enquiry. But beware 
of the paltry pitiful vanity of skepticism. From that are 
born the narrowest dolefullest bigots I e'er have yet 
encountered. Do thou calmly consider.” 

Calmly considering is what the young man was at 
last doing, and he was in such deep reverie when the 
Quaker ceased speaking that there ensued a brief silence 
whose spell seemed more helped than hindered by the 
steady rumble and tremor of the mill. Rousing himself 
presently he said: 

• ‘ I am not prepared to deny the truth of your weighty 
words. They are doubtless the true outcome of what 
you call the inward life. But touching outward matters, 
now Friend Pusey, saving your presence and craving your 
pardon, will you tell me how it is that Quakers, and more 
especially other dissenters, so generally wear the appear- 
ance of fanatical leanness of person. Why are they 
so niggardly in their ways and seem ever making so much 
of economy and so little of accomplishment? Why are 
they neve? gentlemen?” 

A smile of mingled pity and amusement swept over the 
kindly face of the miller as he mildly replied: 

‘ ‘ Possibly because real gentlemen seek to be gentle of 
nature more than of name. For the rest, plump compla- 
cency and fine outward show are apt to be costly ; while 
conscientious followers of Him who had not whereon to 
lay his head are not usually persons of wealth. Avenues 
to its easy acquisition are closed against them which are 
open to less scrupulous money-getters. Hence they are 


520 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


compelled to make sparing use of their limited means, 
even at the cost of seeming to be parsimonious. But since 
thou hast contrasted economy and accomplishment I would 
observe that the two are oftener found together than sep- 
arated. Conscious merit and assured position, needing no 
assertion, usually wear modest externals, while their ab- 
sence necessitates extravagant display of semblance in 
lieu of substance. Real economy is indeed one of the at- 
tributes of high civilization ; and a true measure of its 
several grades withal. The lowest order of men have the 
least idea of economy, and most of the lower animals are 
destitute of it. The barnyard cattle will in a few days 
trample and ruin the whole winter’s stock of provender, 
and starve, if not re-supplied. The untutored savage suf- 
fers from want because he improvidently squanders his 
substance to gratify an instant’s passion for strong drink or 
a shining bauble. Servant girls and the poorer classes 
spend their earnings on fleeting pleasures, and for lack of 
due economy remain where they began; while often with 
less self-deprivation the rationally economical rise into the 
middle classes who practice more economy; but every- 
where the most systematic economists are enlightened 
people of the highest rank, wealth and attainments; their 
advancement being often both the cause and consequence 
of their economy. But enough ; economy in words is the 
first essential and emptiness of body the last. I see the 
good wife looking anxiously hitherward. Tet us to the 
house for dinner. But lol who comes yonder?” 

The speaker peered down the creek, and as a boat ap- 
peared rounding its last wooded bend, he exclaimed, 

“Why, I believe ’tis Gabriel and our Christine 
friends.” 

Rupert started, as the miller with apologetic words re- 
paired to the mooring place at the mill-platform. 

” Welcome, friends,” he called as the Sea Gull touched 
the landing, ” all most welcome ; and ye are just in good 
time, as mother hath this moment called to dinner.” 

‘‘Dinner! Mit dis army ov young cormorants ?” Ebba 
added her own protesting words, referring to the viands of 
their own. 

‘‘Keep them for hungry emergency without other 
resource,” said Caleb, as he received the young proces- 
sion on the platform. 

And how speechless the wonder of the young visitors at 
all they saw and heard— the bright new mill with its hum 
and rattle, the smooth plunge and roar of the water over 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


521 


the dam, and, as they neared the dwelling, the massive 
stone house the like of which they had never seen or im- 
agined as a human abode ! But a greater wonder was in 
store for an older one of the visitors, for Ebba presently 
startled them all — 

“ Blessed saints !” she joyously cried, “ can it be, then ? 
Indeed, O yes, yes, my friend — j^et stay, ah, no” — she had 
rushed forward with extended arms toward a vision at the 
door, when suddenly checking herself she said with short- 
ened breath, 

“ Ah, pardon my mistake ; I thought you were a Swed- 
ish friend,” adding aside, “ O ! she’s the radiant image of 
the lady Iduna.” 

Ebba could not keep her eyes from the beautiful 
stranger. She found it yet difficult to believe she was not 
the stately friend of the old days in Sweden. This one 
here with a severely plain garb seemed, if possible, more 
lovely than the Swedish lady in her most exquisite cos- 
tumes. With lady Iduna’s height and grace of figure, 
thought Ebba, she was less bloomingly statuesque, but of 
more spiritual tone and with a tenderer delicac}’ of ex- 
pression. But further comparisons were interrupted by 
mother Pusey. 

“Come in, good friends,’’ she said, opening wide the 
door. “This is our young friend Deborah Wayne, now 
sojourning with us, and these, Deborah, are our friends 
Gabriel Van Onkelbach and Ebba Borjeson, and — and — ’’ 

“ Tow-heads rampant !’’ said Uncle Gabe, coming mer- 
rily to her relief, “ sun-browned youngsters as haf shust a 
day’s respite from der Christeen bedlam to make vorse 
bedlam here, eh?’’ and he squeezed the children’s cheeks 
with winking fondness as he gathered the bleached group 
about him. 

“We are all acquainted, I believe,’’ said friend Pusey 
as they were about to enter the house, “ Rupert, I think 
thou hast often met — but where — ah, I will step to the mill 
where I left him,’’ 

But he found no Rupert at the mill; for with the first ap- 
peararuce of the visitors from Christeen he had quietly dis- 
appeared. 


522 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 

As they entered the Quaker’s house the Sea Gull’s party 
felt a welcoming charm in the place and people to which 
the two elder visitors, hardly less than their childish com- 
panions, found it easier to yield than to fully comprehend. 
And their stay there was longer than any of them antici- 
pated. For by the time they were through with dinner the 
southwest breeze had freshened to a gale, while a bank of 
black and purple clouds threatened a storm in the direction 
of the return trip. With stiffening head winds and still op- 
posing tide, to sail into a coming storm was more than 
even the skillful skipper dare risk with his precious human 
load, however matchless his darling craft. Long and anx- 
iously the navigator scanned the skies. They grew worse, 
not better, and there was no recourse but to stay over 
night; to which they were warmly urged by host and hos- 
tess. How so maii}^ guests could be provided with com- 
fortable lodging in so small a house was part of the mys- 
tery of that back-woods hospitality of primitive America, 
whose largess was inversely proportioned to its small ac- 
commodations. 

“ Make yourselves easy, friends,” said Caleb, “respect- 
ing quarters for sleeping. Mother’s capacity to supply 
such conveniences hath seemingly no limit in quantity 
whate’er may be said of quality. Methinks her guest- 
stowage hath ne’er yet been o’er taxed: and we’ll try to be 
as cheery within as the storm may be churlish without.” 

And if art-lore or aesthetics there found no ventilation, 
artless content filled the little abode on that stormy night. 
Further observation confirmed the resemblance of the 
Quaker lady Deborah to the Swedish lady Iduna, but re- 
vealed also, Ebba thought, more and greater differences 
between the two beautiful women. For while the rather 
immobile face of her Swedish friend indicated the nega- 
tive repose of robust content, in the demure expression 
and saintly calm of Deborah’s features there seemed at 
once repressed force and concealed sadness. But beyond 
all Ebba was at once impressed and puzi^led by an indefin- 
able mingling of reserve and candor, of timidity and ease 
of manner in the Quaker lady. That her sweet face be- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


523 


tokened a guileless nature of noble impulses Ebba felt as 
sure as of her own existence. Must then the pure and in- 
nocent suffer with the guilty ? Can no human condition 
or effort free our lives from the taint and pain of the orig- 
inal transgression ? 

So silently, queried the thoughtful girl, while the gather- 
ing rumpus of the children about her attested their emanci- 
pation from the oppression of their first dumb wonder. 
But the reader shall not be detained with further details of 
this old-time going to mill, with its sociabilities and liabili- 
ties. Enough now and here that in the morning, with 
freshened nature and clearing skies, they all rambled 
about the new works and then re-embarked on the return 
voyage. 

Ebba and Uncle Gabe long remained silent. The latter 
was thinking of Rupert Fairfield’s sudden exit from the 
mill upon their reaching it, as well as of the rumors of his 
frequent visits to these Quaker acquaintances. Knowing 
the Virginian’s jealousy of Okowela and his wandering 
freaks, he had feared his friend was being sorely buffeted 
in a storm of unavailing passion. But now he began to 
wonder whether he had been wrecked by a simple en- 
grossing lov^e for Ebba, or suffered from a possible conflict 
of emotions partialU connected with the strangely lovely 
maiden they had seen. Indulging thus a good-natured 
curiosity touching a mutual friend, the kindly skipper 
more than once shifted his position with a mingled feeling 
of dread and longing to speak of the matter to Ebba, and 
at length ventured to whisper something of it in her ear. 
She gave a slight start, and a trace of hot color swept over 
her face. Then as a warning calm followed the tremor of 
her . look Uncle Gabe would gladly have recalled his words. 
Of all social failings Ebba Borjeson shrank most from 
meddling with the heart experiences or intimate concern- 
ments of others. For gossip or conventional pettiness of 
any kind the large-souled girl had an unspeakable scorn. 
As well by a certain facial compression as by the simple 
force of her withering silence, her companion felt himself 
more rebuked than if he had m^t pronounced condemna- 
tion; and whatever he derived or failed to derive from her 
withdrawn mood he was well content not to repeat the ex- 
periment. 

Only the prattle of the younger children disturbed the 
quiet that ensued, until all their hearts and tongues were 
stirred in unison at sight of the fatherly hills that seemed 
to enfold their homes. Once again Ebba breathed her 


524 Ebb a Borjeson. 

favorite ‘ ‘ / will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from zvhence 
cometh my helpE 

This little outing from those homes and the re-convening 
of the Provincial bodies at New Castle in June broke the 
monotony and quickened the lapse of another summer. 
And meanwhile Uncle Gabe’s busy boat-builders on 
Cooper’s island had completed the barge for Governor Penn 
at the beginning of August, and at high tide on the twelfth 
of that month a crowd of neighbors assembled to witness 
the launching of the craft, which Ebba was authorized to 
christen “ Carrier Dove,” as she gracefully parted the re- 
ceiving waters. Following the launch the people partook 
of a bountiful lunch arranged by the islander under his 
cabin grove where, following the food, there were pipes 
and tobacco with abandance of ” tife” and “meridian” 
and other home-made liquors with which they all made 
themselves merry while listening to Uncle Gabe’s match- 
less stories, which in linked memories always . went 
further and further back into the old colonial times, when 
under the social piety of the Dutch rule a big proclama- 
tion and the pealing bell of fort Altona called the people to 
observe a “Prayer, Fast and Thank Day” four times a 
year, on which days the combined fumes of tobacco and 
liquor sometimes got the start of sleepy night in bringing 
sweet oblivion upon the observers. 

And when the islander’s voice softened with tenderer 
reminiscences of a still earlier period, 'there was a pathetic 
hush among the listeners as touching allusion was made to 
the green grave of a young wife, with whom he had 
weekly left their island-home at the call of the same old 
bell for Sunday worship in the little chapel within the 
walls of the old fort. 

But they were soon to experience a nearer sadness. For 
amid present fun and plaintive memories a boatman 
touched the island, bringing the startling news that Gover- 
nor Penn was to sail that very day for England; that he 
would embark on the ketch “ Endeavor” which had just 
arrived from abroad, and would probably pass down before 
them within an hour. 

Something like consternation seized the people. It was 
all so very sudden and unexpected. To think that the fall 
of the same tide on whose flood they had launched the 
barge should carry off the friendly official for whom it was 
built. The company lately so merry seemed verily stun- 
ned at what they heard. Nor was the matter improved 
with the reflection that there was no time to do anything 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


525, 

with the new craft in honor of the Governor who had 
honored them in ordering its construction. 

Following the news all eyes began peering up the river, 
and at length from behind the wooded hills the expected 
vessel hove into view. Meanwhile Uncle Gabe had been 
making both of his yachts ready for passengers, and soon 
the two vessels, loaded to their guards, were dropping out to 
the river. There, after crossing the course of the “En- 
deavor,” they approached her near enough for an ex- 
change of greetings and last farewell to the departing 
Governor, who stood upon the forecastle. Keeping thus 
in close company with the ketch, the two yachts held on 
their course until they passed New Castle where a crowd 
was waving good-by, while a number of small boats came 
out for nearer demonstrations of adieu. Finally the home 
craft all went about and the outward bound vessel hoisted 
her last sail and held on her long course. 

Thus went the wise and kind founder, who sent a part- 
ing letter of fervent injunction to the friends he left, with a 
concluding prayer for the infant Philadelphia, “ the virgin 
settlement of the province, named before thou wert born.’’ 
It was with sad hearts that those old settlers went back to 
their homes. The}- felt that they had parted from a friend; 
and some of the gravest of them, whose rough exteriors 
covered tender hearts, turned away with suspicious sud- 
denness as if to hide moistened faces. They had the usual 
experience of failing to realize the full measure of famil- 
iarly enjoyed benefits until the moment of their threatened 
loss. The river communities, indeed, had begun to appre- 
ciate the difference between the annoyances, the petty ex- 
actions and the obstructive rule of a despotic outside gov- 
ernment to which they were a mere appendage, and the 
just and ample self-rule granted them under an enlight- 
ened government at home. They felt the honor as well 
as the local advantage of having the council and assembly 
of the united province and territories convene for delibera- 
tion within their ancient home domain, whose peculiar 
wants could thus be the better known; and above and be- 
yond all there were so many ways in which the good 
Quaker magistrate had manifested his gracious and famil- 
iar personal interest in their common welfare, that they 
had learned to value him as a neighbor and citizen as well 
as their governor. 

Had they imagined that their separation from him was 
to continue fifteen years of sore vicissitudes for him and 
them, they would not have been reconciled to it without a 


526 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


far severer trial. As it was. whatever the disaffection of the 
lower territories, there was mourning in the ancient settle- 
ments of Christine and New Castle at the departure of the 
Christian statesman whose broad and beneficent policy has 
been so amply vindicated by time and events. 

Nor amid the general regret at the departure of William 
Penn were Ebba Borjeson and U-ncle Gabe the only per- 
sons to take the event in personal sorrow. The 3^oung 
chief Okowela was inconsolable. His canoe was seen 
pointing forthwith for Cooper’s island, and as its grave- 
faced occupant landed and approached with unelastic step, 
it was not difficult for the observing islander to guess his 
errand; for not all the Indian’s proverbial control of 
emotion could hide the sadnevSS he felt. Dame Signild, at 
her bread-kneading, shook her head in a way the cutest 
children could hardly interpret, and her meah’ hands were 
more than once detected in a faceward motion, as if to 
avert a tearful exhibit, while people said that Nicodemus 
Knight oftener shifted his tobacco cuds and increased his 
expectorations in liquid recognition of the sorrowful 
event. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

Four months had passed since the departure of Gover-. 
nor Penn. Another August with its nights of chilly heat 
and mornings of dewy saturation had been followed by the 
mellow radiance of a long and lovely autumn. It was near 
mid-December; yet with a few wintry days that disrobed 
the forests, an October blandness had returned to the 
waning year. 

It was upon one of these late daj^s of sober calm that 
Ebba went with the children to the Walnut grove to 
gather the last of its bountiful crop of nuts. The task had 
been completed and the last load of hulled treasures 
borne by the children to the house, when our friend sought 
the rustic seat near at hand often referred to as her 
familiar resort in the grove. With winter closely impend- 
ing, a blue sky of September softness toned the broad, 
filmy veil of moveless clouds and shed a neutral light be- 
longing to the very sentiment of restful calm. And surely 
restful as ever was the charming place on this quiet after- 


Ebba Borjeson. 


527 


noon, had the j^oung lady found herself in a more receptive 
mood. But with all her busy efforts at work or diversion 
Ebba could not wholly resist an occasional return of the 
spells of depression which had more than once beset her. 
Memories of her dear Sweden and a strange new longing for 
the old home beyond the sea persistently came back to her 
from time to time. 

More than a year before, in the sadness of one of these 
experiences, she had sent b}^ one of the returning ships a 
letter of enquiry to her old friend Countess B. of Stock- 
holm, seeking information of .the persons and places 
linked with her childhood, and particularly though some- 
what covertly begging to know whether anything had 
ever been heard from Halvor Mondahl, or any knowledge 
gained of his fate. And then when nearly ten months 
had elapsed without bringing a reply, she had written 
again to the same purport and entrusted the letter to 
William Penn vrhen he sailed the preceding August. The 
latest incoming vessel which had passed up the Delaware 
a few days before, had at last brought the answer for 
which Ebba had so long waited with mingled hope 
and dread. 

And sad enough was that answer. Not a word had 
been heard of Halvor nor an intimation ever obtained 
of his fate. He was generally believed to be dead. For 
with the lapse of three years since his mysterious dis- 
appearance, the most hopeful of his friends despaired 
of his ever being seen again. This report, with the 
sad changes which had befallen many of her old acquaint- 
ances in Sweden, had made a serious inroad upon Ebba’s 
usual good spirits. And this had been deepened by a 
recent dream so intensely vivid that the vision had since 
pursued her with all the haunting persistence of a proven 
verity. It was about a week before the arrival of 
her letter that she one night went disappointed to her bed 
after a time of weary waiting and unusual trials, when, 
falling into an uneasy sleep, she saw Rupert Fairfield 
approaching her with a sad pleading look and gently 
agreeable manner. Taking her hand, which she was 
powerless to withdraw, he urged his suit with such resist- 
less persuasion that her protesting will seemed almost 
over-mastered, when suddenly in her struggle she dis- 
tinctly saw Halvor Mondahl in subdued conversation with 
two beautiful women, one of whom seemed to be very like 
the lady Iduna and the other her new acquaintance, 
Deborah the lovely Quakeress. They stood on either side 


528 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


of Halvor and' seemed to turn to him alternately in 
an earnest entreaty which he gently refused. It was the 
brave Halvor in the young manhood of her cherished 
recollection, all unchanged, except that the buoyant 
roundness of his face was compressed in set lines as with 
sorrow. She reached forth her hands and tried to call to 
him in vain, and as the three withdrew Halvor turned 
toward her with a look of inexpressible sadness. It was a 
look indicative of many and great sorrows in which the 
inconsolable grief of a lost faith seemed to dominate. As 
Halvor disappeared from her sight Ebba tossed in 
desperation and, with a shriek of despair, awoke. 

Such was the vision which, with the succeeding causes, 
had so deeply impressed our young friend. And such was 
their effect upon her that with all her healthful impulses 
she could not wholly resist the morbid desire to seek 
solitude, that she might the more unreservedly indulge 
their haunting influences. It was to something of this 
continued melancholy that she now found herself yielding, 
amid th^ deeper hush following the bustling merriment of 
the children. 

In such mood, moreover, Ebba may have felt a not 
unpleasant confirmation in the sympathetic sadness of the 
day and the surroundings. There was a sombre tender- 
ness in the calm, gray light of the December afternoon 
that silently bred reverie. All about her the seered 
leaves with plaintive rustle eddied into their winter nest- 
ling places, and as she gazed abroad the shrunken foliage 
widened the vistas through ragged new openings; lonely 
fields grew brown and bare amid dark encircling woods, 
and nearer at hand in bushy pasture clearings and the most 
sheltered nooks even ^^oung oak sprouts, the gaudy sumac 
and the lingering crimson of the blackberry leaves had 
merged their hues in soberer tints. The year’s gay colors 
were at last gone, and “passing away’’ seemed the legible 
inscription upon all the broad face of exhausted nature. 

While Ebba was thus absorbed the short afternoon had 
nearly passed away; old Shaggy having awakened had 
followed the children later, and she was left entirely 
alone. Of little was she fully conscious until startled by 
a sudden noise from behind, when Rupert Fairfield stood 
before her. Her surprise was so complete that with one 
loud beat her heart seemed to stop, and for the moment 
her tongue was equally paralyzed. He, too, was calmly 
silent; and as Ebba dropped her eyes she felt herself 
deeply color with the intensity of his gaze. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


529 


She had permitted herself but a single keen glance 
at the face of the intruder. But that one glance was 
enough to reveal the change in his countenance. It 
had grown thin and pale, but its haggard disquiet had 
given place to a calm and seemingly gentle firmness 
of expression. It was in this repose of force that Ebba 
most felt his power. From the first, indeed, Rupert Fair- 
field had had the advantage of encountering antagonism 
rather than indifference in the heart of Ebba Borjeson. 
He was not a thin-blooded, proper man to whom no 
objection could be made, and hence had known nothing of 
that hopeless obstacle encountered by the tame lover — a 
mild approbation from the loved object. The heat of his 
positive nature compelled love or hate proportionately. 
In Ebba Borjeson he had met the first woman whose com- 
posure was not unhinged by his self-assumed merits; and 
as in his attempted game of flirtation he had been caught 
in his own snare, so now that he was less the sport 
of his own vanity, he had in very truth become a 
formidable suitor to a true woman. 

Ebba sorely felt the perversity of fate that must intrude 
this persistent admirer upon her tenderest thoughts of Hal- 
vor Mondahl, her lost friend of old. But Rupert’s un- 
wonted mood of almost timid calmness — his deferential 
manner, his look of gentle pleading, his suffering face, 
wrought a spell which she could not break by word or 
act. 

“ Miss Borjeson,” he began, ” I crave your pardon for 
this intrusion, but I would ask — ” he hesitated; his man- 
ner was apologetic, his voice plaintive. “Will you not 
grant — Oh, Ebba, I beg — ” The lady winced at the 
tinge of returning assumption in his address, and as her 
brow darkened an instant with the departing charm, she re- 
gained self-control. 

“Pardon me. Miss Borjeson,” he resumed, “pray do 
not blame, do not turn from me. O, I beg you to hear--” 

“ Dot vas all right,” exclaimed a jolly voice as Gabriel 
Van Onkelbach tramped into the grove; “ dey toldt me at 
der house ye vas here, und here I find — heigho ! Oxcuse 
me, I tought ye vas alone. Yhy Rupe, how ye vas, eh? 
But pardon me, I shust vill not intrude.” 

“ Nay, come. Uncle Gabe, ’tis no intrusion,” she called 
eagerly as the new-comer turned to leave. 

‘ ‘ S5!:o ?’ ’ he enquired with a voice and look of hesita- 
tion. 


34 


53 ° 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“O, do come, I beg of you,” and there was a latent 
tone of strong entreaty in Ebba’s voice which the islander 
did not mistake, while Mr. Fairfield bit his lip with a vex- 
ation illy concealed by the hearty greeting of the other 
two. 

” Yell den,” said Gabriel, coming forward with a jolly 
toss of his head and merrier grin in his face, ‘ ‘ of I no in- 
tervere mit you, I vas glad; for I haf zuch shjoke — yaw, 
two shiokes on our grafe, goot friendtup der river.” 

“Jokes; how mean you?” asked Ebba; “jokes upon 
whom ?” 

“ Upon our friendt Calep Busey at der mill; von vas his 
own shjoke mit himself, vhich I dtells ye first. Ye both 
know vhat eferyboty knows, dot our miller friendt vas nc 
runi-zeller, but shust vill gif tdrinks for zocial cheer mit- 
oudt scharge to beoples bringing grists to mill, as dey oft 
gome und go long vays midst rain und snow. Yell now, 
vhat ye tinks? Yhy, shust to pe no respecter ov persons 
und leaf no room for complaint, vhat must dis Quaker do 
as foreman of der grand shury, but go und indict himself 
mit oders for zelling liquor mitoudt license, ha, ha, ha ! 
Und he vas zuch pig-headed man !” 

“Pig-headed?” queried Ebba, scenting a possible im- 
putation of obstinacy against her peace-loving friend, 
“ nay, better be o’er vSensitive — better have too much than 
too little care for the public good in such things, me- 
thinks.” 

“ Yay, yaw; but our goot frien vas a wery pig-headed 
man — shust der piggest headted Quager in all der New 
Yorld ov Quagerdom. Now, what ye tinks dis last ship 
shust vetch from England, eh ?” 

“ A letter for me for one thing,” said Ebba, “ a letter 
long, long looked for.” 

“ Yaw, dot vas good; but vhat else? Ye no guess? Yell, 
it vetch great many proad-brim hats sent by Gofernor 
Penn for his Quaker frients in der new province; und dey 
vas distribute roundt to dose friendts, all but one, und dot 
hat vas shust zo pig no headt could be found to fit mit it, 
till our freint Pusey gome back from his court ov Peace- 
makers, und der pig hat shust fit mit his pig head bretty 
goot but leetle tight; und dot vos der oder sjoke on him. 
But dot vas not all; der kint Gofernor send me books; 
yaw, when he sh topped ofer night on der island mit me 
last spring he saw old Montaigne vos der onl}^ French 
author I had, und zo he sent me vorks of Rabelais mit his 
shjovial Pantagruelism— sent me comedies ov sharp- vitted 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


531 


Moliere, und Provincial Letters ov Pascal, most good e’en 
as our Erasmus, und sermons ov Bossuet, dot vonderful 
priest-orator, Zo I get shust all kinds und eferytings.” 

“And that was the joke upon you,’’ said Rupert, be- 
stiring himself from his moody abstraction, “but I am 
surprised that so great a moralist as Penn professes to be 
should countenance the more than questionable morality 
of the books and lives of some of the authors named.” 

“ Countenance, said ye? Vh}^ about dot Penn allows 
me to shjudge for meinself. No man haf purer morals or 
stricter conscience as Gofernor Penn; but he is no con- 
science-keeper for oders; und he shudge by a man’s con- 
duct, not by his creed; und dot, metinks, vos bof der 
safest test und truest toleration.’’ 

“That is the common talk of the day,’’ said Rupert, 

‘ ‘ yet it is a toleration tending more to coarse license than 
correct living, being wholly incompatible with the peace 
and safety of our established English church.’’ Saying 
which, the speaker rose as if to leave. 

“ But ve alvays like it for ourselves; as vhen your En- 
glish schurch get all Quakers’ privileges in Penn’s prov- 
ince und vhen der Quaker Gofernor help us get schurch 
books for our Lutheran service. But Rupe, vhy go ye ! 
Yon’t ye come niit me home ?’’ 

But the young gentleman made vague excuses, and with 
a bow of stately grace took his leave with a mien of con- 
strained dignity, while Ebba and her companion walked 
slowly homeward. 


CHAPTER LXXV. 

The third winter of Ebba Borjeson’s life in the New 
World was drawing to a close. Its tedium had been re- 
lieved by the usual fire-side stories within and various du- 
ties and brisk sports without, beside which there had been 
the unusual stir of a meeting of the settlers to devise 
means of protection against the encroaching wolves by the 
concerted digging of wolf-pits and other barriers against 
an evil which was rapidly growing with the settlement of 
the country and the increase of small young farm stock 
to tempt the ravenous beasts. 

A fortnight before the end of nominal winter all signs 
of the cold season disappeared, and after the usual weather 


532 


Ebba Borjeson. 


contention at that period, by the middle of March there 
came a succession of such warm balmy days with soft south 
winds as promised the speed}^ advent of spring. Ebba 
had begun to suffer from the weary stupor of labor and 
confinement. She had long busied herself with the child- 
ren at their work and play, and now with the favoring 
weather and the wooing scents which daily freshened the 
promise of early flowers, she longed for one of the long 
lonely walks up the ever-tempting Brandywine of which. 
she found herself growing more fond. 

“ Yes, child,” exclaimed dame Signild one bright after- 
noon, “ye’ve earned the right to go your way ; there’s 
little work undone to-day, and ye'd best hurry off afore 
the young uns force your stay.” 

Ebba, with a merry recognition of the dame’s uncon- 
scious rhyme, ran to her room, and donning a jaunty hat 
or head gear and a light easy robe suited to the woods, 
returned and sped away joyously on her lonely ramble. 
The old dame stood at her door and pensively gazed after 
her young relative. 

“ Odd creature that,” she mused, “ queer in all her ways 
and wishes, but as brave and loyal a soul as lives. Body 
o’ me ! how could I e’er do without her? Yes, yes,” she 
continued to mutter, taking a parting look as Ebba disap- 
peared in the distance, “ the gal’s contrary like sometimes 
and puzzles a body with her strange idees, but in a pinch 
I’d rather — ” 

“ Whew ! ‘what see I yonder? As I live, I do believe 
that’s this half-mad Rupe Fairfield !” and as she spoke the 
crouching figure of a man was seen hurrying down the 
slope from the wooded heights westerly. “ Wherever has 
the man been all these months more of wild rovings 
I wonder ? And so Ebba’s walk won’t be alone after all, 
I vow.” 

Half an hour later, as the old lady was busying herself 
outside the house, her eye chanced to catch sight of a 
canoe which had coursed over the submerged marshes of 
Shelpot and was then sweeping swiftly round the nearest 
point of old Timber island. It was paddled by an Indian; 
and as its bow was whirled against the descending current 
the little craft trembled with the vigorous strokes with 
which it was propelled. Pointing up and across the 
Brandywine, the canoe in a few moments glided rapidly 
into a little cove on the westerly bank, when the red man 
seizing his rifle, leaped ashore and sprang up the slope. 
After hurrying a few rods up the hill the Indian suddenly 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


533 


paused and looked cautiously about in bending posture. 
Applying the quickness of sight and cunning art with 
which the redskin detects footprints of friend or foe, the 
searcher in a few minutes gave an exultant toss of his head 
with the half-suppressed cry of “ hugh !” indicative of suc- 
cess. But the Indian seemed not yet satisfied, for he 
bounded on up the westerly ascent until he approached 
the oblique course which had been taken by the man in his 
stealthy pursuit of Ebba. Then suddenly bending low he 
resumed his keen scrutiny of the ground. Apparently baf- 
fled at first he redoubled his efforts, sprawled himself upon 
the long dry grass, peered under the low bushes and felt of 
the twigs, when suddenly springing to his feet with a 
triumphant grunt the redskin muttered “ there, light tread 
•of fair squaw, good; here heavy track of big man, no 
good.” Then retracing his steps he hastened down to the 
shore, made fast his canoe in a concealed spot and followed 
on up the creek in fleet pursuit of those whose steps he had 
tracked. 

Dame Signild, who had observed some of these move- 
ments, shook her head ominously and remained for some 
moments in thoughtful silence; then slowly resuming her 
work she muttered to herself, ” that proud Virginian and 
prouder Okowela ; feed e’en such fools with pap if ye must, 
but ’fore God ! may perdition ketch his soul who harms my 
child !” That child was meanwhile tripping onward with 
a light heart. It was one of those still sweet days of much 
abused March, whose tender charms contrast so strikingly 
with their gusty environment of dark, raw weather. The 
woods wore that barest and darkest aspect which last pre- 
cedes the awakening of spring. Already, indeed, a breath 
of the tender new-comer mingled with the mould of the 
forest. The earliest snow-drops had come and gone; the 
blood-root was found in sheltered places and even the 
trailing arbutus modestly hinted of its fragrant beauty from 
under the dried leaves. 

As Ebba saw and felt these delicate premonitions of 
spring her heart swelled with those indescribable experi- 
ences enjoyed to the full only by the genuine lovers of 
honest nature. Wholly absorbed in her' surroundings 
she occasionally paused to admire a mossy carpet or 
uncover a peeping flower, and more than once as 
she resumed her walk she had a vague impression, 
derived more from feeling than sight, that she was 
being followed. With a strange commingling of pride 
and dread she had the experience not unusual with self-re- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


53 4 

specting people in such circumstances, of being at once 
haunted with doubt and hindered from dispelling it. So, 
without turning to look behind, Ebba simply quickened 
her onward steps. Her half-defined purpose had been to 
go as far as the ruins of Jotunheimr or Giant’s Castle ; and 
now, as she approached her destination through the 
wooded and rocky valley of the creek, she gradually left 
its immediate banks in order to make a diagonal and easier 
ascent to the lofty summit. Pausing a moment to observe 
the plunging current below, she took fresh breath and 
gazed upward to renew her course ; when happening to 
cast a leftward glance she saw a man advancing along the 
brow of the height above. He moved with rapid strides 
with the evident purpose of intercepting her. Ebba’s 
heart gave a bound and for an instant its pulsations were 
stilled to a sickly tremor. The man’s figure was darkly 
outlined against a glowing sky, but his features were in 
his own shadow, and in her startled vision the rambling 
girl felt a vague apprehension as to his identity. 

Summoning a resolute calmness of demeanor Ebba 
moved quietly on her way ; but she had gone only a few 
rods when she heard a rustle of leaves with the sound of 
vigorous footsteps, and Rupert Fairfield was at her side. 
His face was haggard, his hair dishevelled and his eyes 
rolled in a sort of frenzied disquiet. For a moment the 
two stood silently gazing at each other ; then with a bare 
interchange of half-muttered civilities they walked silently 
on together, the hard thumping of their confessing hearts 
alone gauging their sense of an impending crisis. 

The encounter had deflected P^bba’s upward course, so 
that instead of continuing on to the summit she now turned 
her steps parallel with its ridge, and with her companion 
proceeded slowly across the steep until they reached a 
narrow plateau near the huge rock stairway at the foot of 
the highest peak of Will's Rock. Here Rupert abruptly 
confronted his companion, and with a resolute glare in his 
eyes motioned her to a seat on a fallen tree. 

“ Miss Borjeson,” he began, with the enforced calmness 
of a husky voice, ” I have something to say to you !” He 
paused ; and Ebba, awaiting his further words, quietly re- 
plied as she made a movement to leave, 

“ Perchance ’twere better unsaid.” 

” Nay, you shall not leave me. I have borne my bur- 
den long enough ; I will bear it no longer. Miss Borjeson, 
know you not — O, you must know how madly I love you. 
Long, long, my adored, I have — ” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


535 


“ I cannot hear such language, sir. I wrong you to per- 
mit it ; I beg you not to — 

“ Hear me you shall ! Patiently I have waited, faith- 
fully I have striven — nay, humbly have I e’en prayed to 
one cherished end — to win you and be worthy of you. My 
faith in you is steadfast as eternity. For your sake and 
my own I have sought to make no mistake : for your sake 
I have endured martyrdom : for your love I would — ” He 
had thrown himself at Ebba’s feet and seized her hand, 
and as she strove to free herself, he continued, “ O, do not 
cast me off : God only knows what I have suffered — ’ ’ the 
last word touched her heart with pity. The idea of any- 
one suffering on her account unnerved her. She thought 
of his unhappiness, she remembered how marked had 
been his preferences, how long had been his seeming con- 
stancy without hope. For a moment her unresisting hand 
lay within the grasp of her suitor. His pleadings burst 
forth with renewed hope. Then came to the besieged girl 
the full realization of the impending crisis : but with it 
came the quickness of intuition, the womanly tact rarely 
failing in her severest emergencies. 

“My heart’s idol! my soul’s queen!’’ he continued; 
“ guide and guardian of my better nature ! paltry are the 
words which tell of my hungering heart, of my entire de- 
votion to — ’’ 

“ Nay, nay; hush, I pray. Calm yourself and help me 
from the chilly gloom of this rough spot. ’ ’ 

He relaxed his grasp at the suggested possibility of 
rendering her a service. Rbba flew back round the huge 
stairway and began climbing to the summit almost before 
her companion comprehended her purpose. He hastened 
after her, but the “help’’ she besought proved purely 
negative, as he could not keep pace with her vigorous 
movements. In the excitement and sudden exertion of 
her flight Ebba’s wealth of raven hair had fallen from its 
encircled bondage, a delicate color flushed her pale cheeks, 
and her half-loosed robe with freer grace lightly draped 
her nimble person. As her companion rejoined her at the 
side of tile summit rock he thought she had never ap- 
peared so inexpressibly lovely. 

“ Bright vision of my sweetest dreams !’’ he exclaimed. 
“ Oh ! make it a brighter and sweeter reality. Ebba 
Borgeson, be my wife !’’ and as he spoke he reached forth 
as if to take her in his arms. Ebba, while gently thwart- 
ing the movement, calmly gazed upon the intent counte- 
nance of her suitor. 


536 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Speak!” he cried. Still Ebba continued her silent 
• gaze. 

“ Give me a sign — decree my fate; O, crown our united 
bliss !” 

His companion’s eyes dropped to his feet; her voice 
sank. 

“Alas!” she said, slowly shaking her head while her 
face quivered with new efforts for self-composure; “alas, 
my friend, I cannot give what you ask.” 

“What !” gasped Rupert; and the beating of his heart 
seemed as if it must resound through the silent woods. 
“What !” he repeated, and while his rigid stare darkened 
with fierceness earth and sky seemed to him whirling in 
wild confusion. Ebba was silent with inexpressible sad- 
ness. Then in tones of tender sympathy she spoke of her in- 
creased esteem for him, acknowledged his many kind- 
nesses and assured him of her grateful and lasting friend- 
ship. 

“Friendship!” he hissed through his clenched teeth. 
“Friendship! bah, ’tis long past that. Know you not 
that you have fired my brain, haunted my spirit; nay, en- 
tranced my faculties and enslaved my very conscience? 
Beware ! how you drive an estranged, a passionate man 
to wicked desperation.” 

“ That is between you and your creator. Oh, Rupert, 
look to our helping Father above, not to his helpless child 
below. As God is my witness I have not consciously 
wronged you.” 

“Wrong or right,” he cried with a quivering voice, 
“ you shall not escape me !” Then with flashing eyes he 
suddenly sprang like a tiger at an unwary moment and 
violently seized Ebba by both her hands. At first the 
startled girl struggled to free herself, but he held her as 
in a vise. Then ceasing her efforts she presently grew 
calm and in a voice of soft remonstrance said ; 

“ Why, this is not love; this is but the blind fury of 
passion. Love denies itself; it tenderly seeks the good of 
the loved object. Passion is but bestial self-seeking; it is 
unworthy of Rupert Fairfield. I had thought him above 
such selfish madness. ’ ’ 

“ Selfish madness be it ! Ebba Borjeson shall be mine 
or nobody’s. Now and here will I have it out with her. 
No redskin rivals will I tolerate.” He set his teeth and 
tightened his hold upon her. With an exalted expression 
of resolute calm Ebba seemed to take up the gauntlet thus 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


537 


thrown her, and the two stood at bay in watchful gaze as 
with silent invocation to the god of battle. 

“ Unhand me, sir !” demanded Ebba with the suppressed 
force of a born commander. The girl’s whole demeanor 
had undergone sudden transformation. Without a trace 
of fear or hysteria she was hardly less outwardly gentle, 
but the persuasive tone had gone, and in her compressed 
lips and the steely glint of her warning eye Rupert saw 
the indomitable spirit he had before encountered. 

“Unhand me!” she repeated. Her antagonist 
responded with a harder grasp; but she felt a tremor in 
that grasp. She knew the supreme crisis had come. 
With it came a yet calmer purpose in her dauntless soul. 
Its hush deepened with the awe of the silent forest. Only 
the resounding creek and her own thumping heart broke 
the ominous quiet. But the moment of solemn pause 
cleared her brain and steadied her nerves. With a quick, 
wary motion she wrenched her hands from his hold, and 
springing upon the rock, ran out to its furthest end over- 
hanging the precipice. Turning there she calmly said: 

“ Approach but a single step, sir, and I leap upon the 
rocks below.” 

Rupert wavered and his flushed face paled with horror. 

“Good God!’’ he cried, with a moment’s shuddering 
gaze, and then staggered upon the rock with a more 
averted stare. Ebba sprang past him back to the land 
summit, and hurried away in the direction they had come. 
As she pursued the brow of the steep a dusky figure emerged 
from a concealing tree and advanced to protect her retreat. 
It was Okowela, who, pointing to the trail she should take, 
followed on with rifle in hand, casting backward glances 
for an apprehended pursuit. They had not gone far be- 
fore Ebba began to feel weary and faint from her adven- 
ture. Her companion, leading her aside into a rocky nook, 
pointed to a huge grape vine which had curiously twisted 
itself into the form of an easy chair, and bade her “ rest 
there in peace.” 


538 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 

Stunned by his emotional revmlsion Rupert Fairfield was 
at first but vaguel}' conscious of Ebba’s flight from the 
rock. But quickly enough leagued chagrin, rage and des- 
pair made cruel sport of him as he realized the whole 
situation. Of a vehement nature, with chivalrous im- 
pulses, his extremes of feeling the quicker succeeded each 
other. And sharper than all came at last the stings of self- 
rebuke. With remorseful shame he recalled the tender con- 
sideration with which Ebba had treated him until he had 
shown himself a ruffian; he trembled to think how near his 
violence had driven her to a tragic extremity, and he be- 
lieved he must ever be haunted by the spectre of that frail 
figure hovering on the brink of the precipice, with its 
white still face lifted in resolute exaltation. 

“ Noble, generous girl !” he muttered; “ more than ever 
priceless grows she as she passes beyond my reach. My 
God! can it be, — is not this but a harrowing dream?” 
Wandering listlessly away he chanced to follow the 
trail the others had taken. ” Or is it,” he continued, as 
he sauntered on with humbled pride, ‘‘is it indeed the 
knell to hope, to life ? Curse then the love that exalts a 
man but to increase his fall! Fall? perchance a climb; 
but be it to me foil or fortune, despair avaunt ! This very 
girl has taught me that true love is never wholly in vain; 
and the end is not yet.” 

The thought was as a wholesome gleam to feverish 
gloom. He clutched at it with quickened steps. At that 
instant he caught sight of Ebba and Okowela as they 
were disappearing beyond their retreat in the distance. 
Rupert started with shortened breath. All his better 
feelings just being recalled with chastened new hope gave 
instant place to the promptings of vengeful jealousy. 

“The redskin dastard !” he cried in gutteral rage; 
“I’ll have his blood!” With facial distortion and 
renewed desperation he started forward in pursuit. But 
with the strain of prolonged excitement and the ex- 
haustion following his wild wanderings, his strength was 
wasted. He had gone but a few rods before his knees 
began to tremble, his eyes were blurred, his brain reeled. 


Ebb a Borjesofi. 


539 


and in trying to steady himself he staggered against 
a tree and sank upon a log at its foot. Here the poor 
fellow became the wreck of a fresh tempest of passionate 
emotions — of contending pride and shame, of love and 
hate, blind rage and sore mortification, which buffeted the 
lone victim at their riotous will. 

Meanwhile Ebba and the 5^oung chief pursued their 
way down the creek. After some hurried talk upon first 
meeting they walked on in silence. Ebba was deeply 
absorbed, of course, with her late experiences, while her 
companion seemed struggling between silence and speech. 

“ Okowela grieve,” he at length muttered, “if his 
white sister be troubled.” His companion turned to him 
a look of enquiry. 

“ What thought has Okowela?” she asked. 

” Okowela wish no harm befall white maiden. Okowela 
find trail of light-footed one — find trail of big-treading 
pale face — Okowela follow — he watch. Okowela think 
much — he think fast. Okowela’ s thought goes far, goes 
deep; but it leaps in blindness. Will maiden open his 
eye.s — will she tell Okowela what he shall do?” 

Ebba turned to the speaker a querying glance with 
a trace of amusement, in which the Indian saw as well an 
expression of mingled thanks and worrying doubt. For 
he paused until he caught from the other what he 
construed as a hint to speak on. 

‘ ‘ When Okowela saw white brother spring and seize 
damsel by her hands he think harder: when he saw 
her leap on rock and hang over steep Okowela think with 
his hands — he grasp rifle, he take aim, and — ” The 
young chief stopped suddenly with an ominous shake of 
the head as he observed the sharp glance and drawn 
breath of his companion. For some moments ' neither 
spoke, and as they walked on only the rustle of the 
trodden leaves and the roar of the Brandywine varied the 
hush of the March afternoon. The red man was the 
first to break the silence. 

“Okowela should, maybe, keep back his words. He 
knows not the ways of the pale faces. But he knows that 
men, like the sun and the winds, be good and bad; 
the sun warms like a friend and scorches like a foe; 
the wind cools the fevered brow and it stings like an 
adder. So good men bless and bad men blast, even 
as they would please the Great Spirit or the Evil One. 
Okowela hopes to not anger his white sister when he asks 
her whether her pathway is troubled by her white pursuer 


540 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


or her heart made glad at his coming. Do his words vex 
the maiden ? Would she be free from his approach 
and hear not his voice?” and as he spoke the red.skin 
glanced significantly at his rifle. 

” No, no !” cried Ebba, with eager protestation, ” Ru- 
pert means me no harm. He is unhappy; be kind to him. 
Oh, good Okowela, be his friend, not his enemy.” 

” Enough; ’tis well.” And with an inclination of his 
head and sweep of his arm the young chief drew himself 
to his full stature and turned to leave. 

” Stay a moment,” said Ebba; then advancing she took 
his hand. ” I thank you for your kindness,” she said; 

‘ ‘ indeed I am grateful for what you did and for all your 
well-meant intentions for my good. Farewell, and be 
friendly with Rupert Fairfield.” 

” Very good: Okowela’s heart is much proud.” 

They neared the bank where the chief had concealed 
his canoe. The next moment he had loosed it from its 
moorings, and springing aboard the Indian paddled swiftly 
up the stream, while the other gazed absently after him. 

Left to herself Ebba gave full scope to her thronging 
impressions. She found it difiicult to realize just what 
had occurred in its just shape and force. But first she sub- 
jected herself to a rigid self-examination to ascertain to 
what extent, if any, she was fairly responsible for the re- 
sult. She was not conscious of having in any way en- 
couraged Mr. Fairfield’s attentions. But she confessed 
that the gentlemen’s presence had generally been agree- 
able to her. She admired his graceful person and attain- 
ments and had felt his power. Had she always kept 
careful guard against those little inadvertencies of look and 
word, those insinuating graces and sly interchanges which 
feed unconfessed hope with nameless allurements? She 
confessed, too, to her surmise of Rupert’s growing passion 
for her. Had she neglected a duty demanding positive 
action to strangle the growth of that passion ? 

Alas, she could not feel sure she had always done just 
the right thing. She could but plead right intentions. 
She was not an. adept in the puzzling casuistry that revels 
in subtle doubts. But she was sure of two results from it 
all — she felt a deeper heart’s pity for the miscarriage of 
what seemed a growth of real love in her suitor; and she 
had learned to know her own heart. For alas, she knew 
710 W that she loved Halvor Mondahl ! There was no 
longer doubt of that. The crisis had revealed her own 
,soul as in a mirror. At last, through all self-deception. 


Ebb a Borfeson. 


54r 


through all specious disguises, love burst forth and her 
soul cried aloud. Deep down at her heart’s core whelmed 
a quenchless responding fountain for him who had given 
her his true young love in the dear fatherland. It was the 
living water, the sufficing flow upon which to voyage her 
earthly life, the hope and faith of the life eternal. 

But was it justly hers? Of what avail now the love for 
a banished lover, a lover who in his fealty had perchance 
died in lonely exile ? Bitter questionings! Deep and keen 
were the heart-probings, long and sore the wrestlings of al- 
ternating regret, remorse and re-inforcing hope to which 
the true girl subjected herself. But through all unsilenced 
faith whispered of Love’s adequacy for good and ill — of its 
rich crown and fulfilment in life and death. Then she felt 
such a rush of soulful yearning, such a love-ache for the 
lost one as forced from her the imploring cry, “O my Hal- 
vor, here am I! where art thou 1 Speak; O! in the flesh 
or immortal spirit tiirn to the soul which at last knoweth its 
ownV Dead she thought he might be to the world, but 
living he should ever be to her. For amid the startling 
whirl of a single hour’s experience her own clear revela- 
tion was that the full absorbing love of her heart belonged 
ever and wholly to Halvor Mondahl lost or found\ 

Dusk gathered about Ebba as she lingered. The sky 
further darkened with cold moist clouds from which snow 
began to fall; its quivering flakes touched and roused the 
wanderer; but in her heart was a warmth beyond their 
reach; for as she neared the early light twinkling from her 
home she was aglow with a sweet rapture, a tender ec- 
stacy which ever crowns such love as finds its life by los- 
ing it. 

Meanwhile, higher up the Brandywine were quite other 
happenings. When Rupert Fairfield the second time 
aroused himself he wandered off in so aimless a way that 
his course was more determined by chance than purpose. 
Reaching the creek he listlessly followed down its winding 
shore; and as Okowela, upon parting from Ebba, had re- 
turned up the stream the two men were approaching each 
other through its narrow valley. Moping wearily on 
his descent, Rupert had nearly reached the lower rapids, 
when he was startled by the sharp report of a gun near at 
hand, and the same instant a large bay lynx fell dead at his 
feet. Looking about for its slayer he saw a dusky figure 
approaching. It was Okowela, who with eyes fixed in 
lifted scrutiny, was in eager pursuit of game, while Rupert 
was too busied with inward emotion for outward observa- 


542 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


tion; so that neither saw the other till the crack of the 
rifle. At sight of the Indian Rupert rushed madly for- 
ward. 

"Viperous redskin!” he cried. " At last I’ll have your 
dastard blood. What mean you by dogging my foot-steps?” 

The young chief drew himself up with a look of calm 
enquiry. 

" Oh, enough of your Indian art of innocent dignity ; it 
won’t avail. Who knows better than \^ou how you’ve 
acted the red devil spy upon me ? Defend yourself! you’ve 
earned the scornful vengeance of a Virginian and a gentle- 
man.” 

" Okowela no fight his white brother.” 

" Hah! Even a redskin’s guilt confesses his poltroonery. 
Explain yourself. Not fight. And why?” 

‘‘Pale face maiden ask Okowela to be kind to his white 
brother — to be his friend. Okowela would be his friend, 
for the maiden say white brother is unhappy.” 

‘ ‘ Heaven save us ! has it come to this ? Pity ! patron- 
age ! I’ll none of it from her or you. Now fight or fly, 
you skulking vagabond ! Take warning, — take that, 
then.” And with the lavSt words Rupert suddenly drew a 
pistol and fired at the Indian. But in his dizz}" frenzy the 
unsteady aim missed its vital mark. The ball ploughed 
the surface cheek and neck of the red man under his ear, 
drawing copious blood as its worst effect. With the spring 
of a tiger the young chief threw the other on his back and 
leaping upon him with a single sharp yell grasped Rupert 
by the throat. The two grappled in a desperate struggle. 
Both were muscular men of fine physique, and ordinarily 
it might not have proved an unequal combat; but in his 
weakened and half-delirious condition the white man was 
no match for his red antagonist. The latter straddled his 
prostrate foe and, pinioning his arms with his dusky 
knees, clutched his throat with one hand and with the 
other held a quivering knife ready for its fatal heart 
plunge. 

‘‘Red fiend,” gasped Rupert, ‘‘do your worst; slake 
your savage thirst !” But the next instant he felt the red 
hand relaxing its hold upon his throat. 

‘‘Nay, nay, Okowela kills not his white brother,” and 
releasing the other’s arms, the young chief rose and threw 
his knife toward his own rifle and Rupert’s pistol lying 
near it. 

‘‘ See the cast-off knife, the empty guns ! Not freer lie 
these from harm than is Okowela’ s heart from hate.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


543 


“ Great God !” cried the prostrate Rupert; and as he 
convulsively turned upon his face his form visibly shook 
with the conflict of his thronging emotions. “ What mean 
you ?” 

“Brother, take the red man’s hand. Up and be once 
more glad and free as the leaping fawn ! Rupert and 
Okowela have been friends; they shall be friends.’’ 

“ Nay, nay, leave — ” and with choked voice he waved 
him away. 

The overcast sky had darkened and snow began to fall. 
For what seemed a receding age to him Rupert lay in an 
engulfing silence so utter that the loud beating of his own 
heart seemed but to mark the remorseless measure of his 
own desolation. 

“ My cup is full !’’ he groaned through his half-smoth- 
ered breath; “what deeper humiliation for an aggressor 
than to be taught magnanimity by a savage and owe his 
life to his mercy ? Noble Okowela ? I shall be proud of 
his — but where is he?” 

Rupert lifted his head and gazed about him. He was 
alone ! The falling snow-flakes cooled his feverish cheeks. 
Staggering to his feet he wandered away. The snow 
rapidly thickened and began to blind his path. He sought 
shelter under a large rock projecting from the steep hill, 
and was there making a rude couch of bushes, when he 
felt a soft touch upon his arm. 

“ Come with Okowela,’’ said a kindly voice, “come, 
come from big storm.” 

Rupert suffered himself to be led down to the creek’s 
shore and thence was taken in a canoe down the Brandy- 
wine and up the Shelpot to the sheltering wigwam of the 
red man. 


CHAPTER LXXVII. 

The young chiefs hospitality to Rupert Fairfield was as 
timely as it was generous. For the increasing snow-fall 
which drove them from the woods was the beginning of 
one of those violent and prolonged storms of contending 
elements to which the March of middle latitudes is pecu- 
liarly liable. So surly and spiteful do they seem that one 
wonders if glum old winter does not thus focus his venge- 
ful spleen as a parting protest against the enforced sur- 


544 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


render of his chilly scepter. At all events, on this occa- 
sion his mad caprices seemed to know no bounds. The 
wind swept the snow in wild sheets, whirled it in blinding- 
eddies and piled it in vast drifts. It continued with in- 
creasing fury all that night and during the following day; 
it buried fence-tops under snowy submersion; it sent the 
fleecy reveler to cut strange capers among the rocks and 
bushes in the woods; it fashioned familiar objects into 
grotesque forms; it besieged the lowly cabins of the set- 
tlers, heaped blockading snow-works about their door 
yards and outhouses and played ghostly pranks with all 
their familiar surroundings. Even for brown-hued and 
gusty March it was a storm of memorable fury and unusual 
depth of snow. 

But with all its fearful bowlings, sweet and unbroken 
were the. slumbers of Rupert Fairfield in the wigwam of 
Okowela. The dusky host was delighted. Nor would 
he concede that it resulted as much from the preceding- 
fatigue and exhaustion of his guest as from the medicinal 
charm of that wonderful spring in whose magic virtues red 
men and white had growing faith. Near this famous 
spring was Okowela’ s favorite dwelling place; and it was 
claimed that his constant use of the water contributed 
to his grace of person and fleetness of foot. In its 
sparkling waters he had promptly washed the feet and 
throbbing temples of his weary guest, as well as swathed 
his own pistol wound; and with its appetizing coolness the 
two had devoured their evening repast with added zest. 
And so when Rupert awakened near noon and his host saw 
in him as he felt in himself the healing effects of the 
watery applications, the coppery hue of his kindly features 
lightened with exultant gladness. 

By the middle of the afternoon there came a lull in the 
storm’s fury, when Rupert expressed a wish to go to the 
home of Gabrel Van Onkelbach. Then they were con- 
fronted with an obstacle neither had anticipated. It was 
but a few steps from the wigwam to the bank of that 
wildly beautiful stream, variously called Skilpaddle, Skill- 
pot, Stony Brook and Turtle Creek, now known as Shel- 
pot; and ordinarily it was scarcely a five minutes’ walk 
down to its tidal flow near the mill-run by the jolly Ta- 
poeise, where Okowela’ s canoe was moored. But such 
were the formidable snow-drifts with which the storm had 
filled the intervening distance that at first it seemed im- 
possible to walk it. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


545 


“Snow up to breech-clout,” said Okowela, shaking 
his head, “ wait till my brother’s strength is big and 
snow’s little.” 

“Nay, good friend, I must not longer tax your kind- 
ness.” 

“ My brother is welcome. Okowela glad to share food, 
shelter, all he has with his friend.” 

“Too well I know and feel your goodness, but — ” 
Rupert hung his head as he paused. Then as he con- 
tinued silent, the chief suddenly handed him dried venison 
and a gourd of spring water. 

“ My pale friend is sad; if he must go now to our island- 
brother let him eat and drink. Okowela come soon back.” 

The red man darted outside and after some minutes 
absence returned with panting breath, saying, “come with 
Okowela.” He had been running to and fro tread- 
ing a pathway to the creek. And now, going single file in 
the narrowly trodden trail they reached the stream, and, 
keeping in its rocky bed where the warm current had 
melted the snow as it fell, they soon wound their way 
down to the canoe. As they paddled directly across the 
deeply flooded meadows Cooper’s island looked like a cir- 
cular mass of snow afloat upon the surging waters. 
Touching at the little platform. Rupert, before stepping 
ashore, attemped to speak some parting words of gratitude, 
but his voice choked with emotion. A second effort prov- 
ing no more successful, his eyes deeply looked his 
acknowledgments as he warmly pressed both hands of his 
Indian friend, and then with a farewell “ God bless you!” 
turned to make his way to the island cabin. 

Deep masses of trackless snow blocked the short way to 
the half-buried residence, and its imprisoned inmate 
would have been surprised at a visit from any person at 
that time; but when, in response to a stumbling knock 
from without. Uncle Gabe opened the door to Rupert 
Fairfield, it was something more than speechless amaze- 
ment that lifted the Dutchman’s musing brows. They had 
not seen each other since Rupert’s abrupt appearance and 
disappearance during the peace-making episode at the leg- 
islative session at New Castle, and for many reasons there 
was an unusual accumulation of talk to be disposed of 
which was begun with dispatch and prosecuted with vigor. 

Among Rupert Fairfield’s peculiarities was an odd com- 
bination of reserve and candor, and with his pronounced 
characteristics their tendency was toward opposing ex- 
tremes. It was with almost the trustful eagerness of 

35 


546 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


a child that the proud Virginian opened his heart to the 
kindly receptive ear of Uncle Gabe, and it was something 
of childhood’s reward that the returned wanderer received 
in response to confessions the more thorough because of 
his long avoidance of his trustworthy friend. 

“ Und now,” said that friend with sympathetic gusto, 
“ Vel, vel, ve shust make tings so more goot as ve can. 
Rupe’s mindt shall do less und his boty more; he must 
feel, feel, und tink, tink, tink not so much all der vhile, 
und do, do much und more as pefore a’ready; eh, mein 
poy ?’* 

Rupert nodded his assent adding, “ Just as you say.” 

“ Und so I shust dtakes ye to friendt Busey’s mill, und 
ye shall vork und play and be captain und cockswain as 
ye please all der vay, eh ? Yes, I dtakes ye so soon as der 
storm shust vas over.” 

But the storm was not soon to be over. For it recom- 
menced before dark with renewed violence, and continued 
all the following day and night with little interruption. 
Then the genial host applied himself to the constant diver- 
sion of his guest. He quoted and read to him favorite 
passages from the Bible and Shakspere, from Rabelais, 
Erasmus, Dante and Montaigne; told him old stories, 
called up laughable reminiscences, sang and played for 
him on his lute, and finally by plying him with generous 
drink and pipes extorted from him an exchange of quota- 
tions from the old English dramatists, and so thickened 
the tobacco fumes and liquefied congenialty of guest and 
host that they reached by bed-time such a mutual condi- 
tion of brotherly stupefaction as profoundly prepared them 
for slumber. 

” Und so, Rupe vill get der more sleep und strength,” 
said the host as they retired, ” for der great voyage vhen 
he is to pe der master und Seb, Bast, Cab, Bot und Ongle 
Gape der crew, hooraw ?” 

During the last night the snow-flakes grew moist and 
heavy with intermingled rain. At dawn there was an ap- 
parent cessation of the storm, and for a short time the sun 
struggled above the horizon. The old skipper-host care- 
fully scanned the skies, noted the wind’s changes and 
watched the movements of various birds. By the middle 
of the forenoon the clouds broke away, the winds entirely 
ceased and the sun burst forth from a deep blue sky. 
But there was the sultriness of a dead calm in the air 
and a suspicious thickness of tone in the sky’s blue depths. 
Uncle Gabe shook his head. 


Ebb a Borjesoji. 


547 


“Veil, dis Dutchman most vill lose his headt, eh ? 
Oh, it vas not only der veather prophet und sailor dot pe 
buzzled; no, no, I likes not der sun to get up und go to 
bed again; for dot, mit der cloze air und low-flyin’ birds, 
means more storm. But vhat I can do ? Der whole 
zettlement vas oudt of flour und meal; rnein leetlest schop 
haf been half full of neighbors’ bags of grain dese two 
weeks, und I no got schance to go up und got ’em groundt. 
I no see how ve longer vait. Yaw, ’tiz dot family man 
mitoudt a family — dot Ungle Gape so veil as dis sailor dot 
get some dtroubles meybe sometimes, eh ?’’ 

‘ ‘ Perchance we could make the run to the mill before 
the storm begins again,’’ suggested Rupert. 

“ Mit some vind ve might ; but mit dis calm — Dere ! 
vhat dot vas, eh? Leaves visperin’ der South vind ! If 
Rupe dare venture, ve go. Agreed ? Den prebare for 
rough vork. Here, Seb, get furling cords : stir SLvay 
dere ; Bast, ship double oars. Haul to dere. Cab, lend a 
hand for der grain.’’ 

Busy hands were astir and in a few minutes the Sea Gull 
received the long waiting grists and pushed out with her 
impatient party from the snow-buried island. As they 
glanced back at it from a half-knot’s distance the little isle 
looked like a mound of snowy marble glistening in the hot 
sun’s rays amid a heavy, turbid sea. 

The dead calm had given place to a muggy breeze from 
the South, and before its quickening drive the little craft 
flew away like a frightened stag. They had rounded the 
fastland of Verdrietige Hoeck, now Edgemoor, and were 
running with wind and tide past Ole Fransen’s bight in 
front of the wooded highlands, when a low rumble of dis- 
tant thunder was heard. Soon a dense black cloud began 
to rise in the southwest. The quickening winds sweeping 
fiercely from all points, screamed through the bordering 
woods, wildly rocking their clashing tree tops, and lashed 
the river into maddened billows and white-capped masses 
of racing waters. With incredible speed the warring ele- 
ments seemed goaded into simultaneous fury. Yet ever}^ 
moment increased the uproar. Wildly scudding clouds 
gathered in blackened masses as for an impending conflict. 
Blinding flashes of forked lightning zigzagged athwart the 
inky sky, successive peals of deafening thunder resounded 
over the river and reverberated through the forests, while 
the fast-deepening gloom shrouded the heavens and the 
earth with a spell of nameless awe. 


548 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“ Yhat ye tinks, Rupe : you vas to be captain dis dtrip. 
Gif your orters, den.” 

” Nay, the emergency is too great for a novice. I defer 
to your superior seamanship.” 

“ Avay, den, pefore der vind : so long as it drife von 
vay der Sea Gull fly mit it.” 

For a time the yacht swept on with quickened flight be- 
fore the gale, but its squally and fitful violence soon drove 
the craft beyond easy control, and in the effort to take in 
sail an eddying gust sent her about with such a sudden 
lurch as to shift her cargo of filled sacks and cause her to 
ship water. Meanwhile, the whirling fury of the gale in- 
creased, and large drops of rain began to fall. It was idle 
to think either of returning or continuing the trip ; for in 
the growing madness of the elements no moving thing 
could long live, with or without canvas. 

They had been hugging the westerly shore, whose 
wooded slope afforded some protection, and now their aim 
was to reach a certain sheltered cove where they might 
await the subsidence of the tempest. Having succeeded 
in furling sail they pulled vigorously for the shore. The 
boat was too large and too heavily laden to be moved 
by rowing only; and in their fierce struggle with wind and 
wave they broke an oar and disabled an oarlock ; but they 
reached the coveted cove. No sheltering roof was near, 
but they were now safe from ship- wreck. Uncle Gabe 
scratched his head. 

‘ ‘ Oudt mit der cargo !” he cried ; “ ve haul her ashore. ’ ’ 

Turning to with a will they transferred the sacks of 
grain to a rising bank and hauled up the yacht, a task in 
which they were aided by the shoreward drive of the 
waves until beyond their reach, when they dragged the 
boat on the snow. Then taking out the mast they over- 
turned the yacht and tilted it against a tree in such 
manner as to afford protection to the transferred cargo and 
themselves. 

They had hardly crawled under their improvised cabin 
before the rain came down in torrents. Before it began 
the snow had been rapidly thawing under the growing heat 
of the atmosphere, and now with the warm rain the slushy 
mass moved with liquefied acceleration into the river. 
Soon darkness closed about them and the party, adjusting 
the grain sacks as convenient bedding, caught snatches of 
sleep amid the roar of the increasing rain and the sound- 
ing plash and hurry of newly-made streams of snowy 
waters. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


549 


They had selected their camphig ground considerably 
beyond the furthest reach of the ordinary flood tide, but 
between the wind-driven up-tide from the sea and the 
copious down-pour from the skies and hills, the augmented 
flood at midnight rose to such a height as aroused our ad- 
venturers with threats of speedy encroachment upon their 
quarters. Taking due warning the party hastily transferred 
their effects to a higher inland ridge, to which they man- 
aged to slide the yacht over the yet remaining snow. Here 
they re-arranged their quarters and resumed their 
broken slumbers. 

But halfway between midnight and dawn the rain 
suddenly ceased, and after a few lingering showers a late 
moon struggled through dispersing clouds and silvered the 
swollen river with a quieting light. A few hours later the 
glowing sun rose through a clear sky as peacefully as 
on the ruddiest summer morning. But long before this 
our party were astir with the difficult task of making 
a fire from soaked fuel, and then with making the most of 
the dried venison and hard biscuit without which skipper 
Yan Onkelbach rarely left his island. 

These duties discharged it was a laborious but brief 
task to drag the yacht down the shortened distance to the 
water’s edge. For the widened river had already sub- 
merged their late camping spot and was rapidly reaching 
up to meet their descending craft. Uncle Gabe’s broad 
face wore a troubled look. 

“ Ueetler flood dan dis carriedt pefore avay der mill und 
tarn. Much now I fear me: but of ve hope und hurry 
meype ve help so more asve can. Oudt, den und avay!! ” 

With repaired damages and refixed mast the Sea Gull 
pushed out to resume her voyage; and when she passed from 
under the wooded shore a freshening wind from the , 
northwest bent the little vessel with quickened speed. 
Greener than ever the river-side openings and grassy 
slopes emerged from their fertilizing baptism of spring 
snow. Only a fragmentary drift here and there lingered 
from the snowy masses which had lately burdened hill 
and valley: and every stream and dry bed of rill and brook 
was overflowing its banks. 

When they at length rounded into the widened mouth of 
Chester creek they saw people on both banks hastening 
to move again from the fast-rising flood various goods and 
objects which had already been moved back beyond 
its expected reach. Others were darting about in boats 
trying to rescue their washed-away property, and still 


550 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


others ran along the shore in frantic dread of vague 
calamities yet to come from the surging might of the 
swelling waters. Farther up the definite windings of the 
narrow creek were lost in the wide submergence of 
the bordering meadows; the sentinel rocks, “Twin- 
whales,” had disappeared under the sweeping depth' of 
the flood; lowing cattle were running in wild alarm at the 
watery invasion of their meadow pastures, and on the fast- 
rising creek there was an increasing debris of uprooted 
trees and devastated property. 

Compelled now to sail closer to the more shifting wind 
among the hills our party found it difficult to make head 
against the stiffening current and floating obstructions. 
But by plucky resolution they had continued to ascend 
and were rounding an obstructing headland when a float- 
ing object of uflusual size and shape appeared in the 
distance. 

“What see we yonder?” cried Rupert, peering up 
stream. 

“ It look like long crooked timber mit an upright post. 
But stay, — as I lif ! der post move; ’tis a human bein’. 
Ve must to der rescue!” 

“ ’Tis somebody carried away, perchance, on the 
broken dam.” 

“ Help mit oars! Pull, pull, boys ! Pull mit a vill to 
safe life !” — and as he spoke Uncle Gabe seized the 
mate of the broken oar and began sculling with his 
one whole arm while trying to guide the helm with 
the stump of the other. They had just begun to feel 
the double impulse of sail and oars when their boat 
was suddenly lifted by the huge swell of a descending 
wave which rolled in terrace-like shape on its resistless 
course, crested with accumulated debris. 

“There's no longer doubt of it,” cried Rupert, “that 
was the sudden swell of the out-going dam.” 

“ Yaw, yaw ! but see der floating wreck ! ’Tis a voman 
on it; mein Gott, she totters ! Quig, poys 1 a hardt last pull 
to safe her.” 

As they neared the floating object they saw a long 
heavy piece of hewn square timber like that of a topmost 
dam-breast, to which what seemed part of a mill platform 
had become fastened in such a way as to cause its partially 
lifted beams to sway and tilt in adjusting itself to a float- 
ing level. On the further end of the mingled wreck was 
the tall slender figure of a woman swinging her arms in an 
apparent effort to balance herself. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


551 


“ Holdt on a moment longer; anoder pull, prafe poys, 
und ve haf her ! Hoorah, once more togeder pull; — 
dere !” 

Rupert rushed to the bow as the yacht was about to 
touch the near end of the wreck. A .clear quick glance 
revealed to him the pale calm features of a face he had 
before seen. He called to her with outstretched arms. 
She made a movement in response; but at that instant, 
with a blast of wind and a foamy surge of the mad current, 
the wavering wreck suddenly overturned, and with a sin- 
gle piercing cry its female occupant disappeared in the en- 
gulfing waters. With a deep moan he leapt upon the un- 
steady wreck and ran back to where she had been plunged 
from it. Her dress had caught upon a projecting spike. 
Rupert grasped at it; his fingers touched it; but before he 
could get secure hold of it the dress was torn loose, and 
its wearer passed under a corner of the raft. Running 
swiftly forward he caught a glimpse of the floating figure, 
then prostrating himself he leaned far under and while 
holding fast with one hand reached out and swept the water 
with the other. The figure eluded his grasp but immedi- 
ately rose to the surface. Recovering himself, he gave a 
powerful leap into the water and swimming swiftly caught 
the retreating object. 

“Starboard about; helm aport !’’ cried the skipper. 
“ Scull here, Seb; for Gott’s sake scull as ye nefer scult 
pefore!” 

Struggling desperately with his burden Rupert sank be- 
neath the swift and icy current, but rose again to the sur- 
face. Again the two disappeared and once more came in 
sight. 

“ Steadty now,’’ and springing for a boat pole, Uncle 
Gabe plunged it under the swaying body of Rupert as his 
arms clung in desperation to the lifeless form of the other. 
Then bearing carefully upon the pole’s inner end the 
bodies were partially lifted. 

“ Prafo; now for^der shore.’’ That was happily but a 
few yards distant and to it the uplifted bodies were towed 
on the tilted pole. 

“ Fader in Heafen !” exclaimed Uncle Gabe, as he 
sprang from the yacht and aided in drawing two insensible 
persons from the water; “ der lady is Deborah Wayne! 
God grant it be not too late to safe ’em bote. Brandy 
quicg, Bast ! unter der forecastle !’’ The boy darted back 
and returned with the flask. It was applied to the lips 
and nostrils of the two prOvStrate bodies. In a moment 


552 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Rupert opened his eyes. There was no motion in the 
white face of the other. With a blank, mute stare of en- 
quiry Rupert turned his eyes half unconsciously upon the 
still face of the beautiful Quakeress; while the Dutchman 
kneeled and turned the body gently upon its face, applied 
snuff to the nostrils, briskly rubbed the cold cheeks and 
forehead and dashed icy water into the pale face. The 
other two looked on with alternating fear and hope. There 
was still no apparent sign of returning life; and Uncle 
Gabe sadly shook his head. 

At that instant the wife of a Scotch fisherman 
burst upon them and at once assumed the authority of 
an adept. 

“ So far, well,” she said, as she bent and breathed 
through the patient’s lips. “ Now for a woman's hands. 
Bear her to my cottage.” 

The order was obeyed with silent celerity. ‘ Rupert 
staggered to his feet and insisted upon aiding to carry the 
burden. It was but a few steps directly up the creek’s 
bank. 

“My gudeman’s old clothes ye’ll find in the rear,” 
said the strange helper to Rupert, “they be ragged 
but they are dry; make the change and come when I 
call ye.” 

In his stunned apprehension and soaked condition the 
usually proud gentleman found a sort of ragged comfort 
in both the command and the compliance therewith. But 
when arrayed in the fisherman’s ragged garments, the 
strange attire seemed hardly more strange to him than this 
latent new feeling that began to strive for recognition 
within him. He would not confess it to himself because 
the experience was at once too vague and too hushed in 
peace to be challenged. But as he paced before the cot- 
tage he found himself the victim of a warming heart-strug- 
gle between eager hope and sickening anxiety for the sus- 
pended life within doors. For that life’s rescue a most 
persistent and long doubtful contest was skillfully main- 
tained. Wet clothing gave place to warm flannels; con- 
stant pressure of the back, active rubbing of the anointed 
limbs and other well-known means were resorted to; still 
no signs of life ! Efforts at resuscitation were repeated with 
growing anxiety. Every known means seemed vainly ex- 
hausted, and the sweet marble features were apparentU' 
hushed in the ghastly peace of death. Nearly twenty 
minutes had elapsed and Rupert was more and more racked 
with torturing suspense. Many times he had knocked and 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


553 


uttered words of querying alarm. Now he paused again 
with hushed breath to listen. A flutter of despair assailed 
his heart as he heard the murmured words, “ too late — my 
God, can it be?” 

“It cannot — it shall not be !” he gasped with choking 
breath. Then he listened again with a quaking heart. 

” Alas, it is all over !” came from within; “ Yet stay — a 
glass — quick ! A breath, thank God ! Yes, see, she’s 
coming to.” Rupert’s pulses quickened to a bound and 
the next moment he heard a light tap on the cottage window 
that made his heart throb like a spasm. As he entered the 
room the patient was slowly opening her ej'es with a gen- 
tle smile of wonder. A moment later there was a slight 
movement at the door and Caleb Pusey stood before them. 
As he took in the situation he gave way to no exclamatory 
outburst, but his face betrayed the silent fervor of his grate- 
ful emotions and his strong frame shook as he pressed the 
hand of the rescued maiden. 

That evening they were all, including the fisherman’s 
wife, assembled at the home of the Quaker miller.- At its 
threshold the rising flood had stayed its further encroach- 
ment. Within, the remains of a steaming and bountiful 
meal were being removed from the table, and the 
compaii}^ with glad faces and sated hunger sat around 
the cheerful log fire. Their grateful hearts had been 
too full for any spoken grace at that meal of unutterable 
thankfulness. 

“With two such calamities,” said Rupert Fairfield, 
‘‘within so short a time, I should think you would be- 
come disgusted. Friend Pusey, with this savage country.” 

‘‘ Nay, nay, Rupert, the savage country we are come to 
is less savage than the civilized country we came from. 
The storms of honest nature are but overdone kindnesses, 
and the}' are less hurtful than the storms of religious per- 
secution.” 

‘‘Well, that is certainly a comforting view to take of 
your losses.” 

‘‘ Losses, say’st thou? With this precious child and her 
valiant rescuers all here at my side, is aught else worthy of 
consideration ? And moreover,” added the Quaker, with a 
quiet twinkle of the eye, ‘‘ while before dam and mill were 
both carried away, this time we lose the dam only. Next 
time, perchance, we may wholly escape disaster.” 

‘‘Why, Friend Pusey, you have all the sunny 
philosophy of Uncle Gabe. And you have as much 


5 54 Ebba Borjeson. 

faith as ever, then, in the great future of this New 
World?” 

‘‘More than ever. I believe with Governor Penn that 
God will bless his domain and make it 'the seed of a nation' 
Here I think will arise a great government of the people 
whose basis shall be the kindly brotherhood enjoined by 
the Saviour of mank-ind. Here. I trust, will be honored 
and dignified above empty titles that useful labor of which 
the simple carpenter of Nazareth was a faithful performer; 
and I fervently hope that instead of rearing brazen struc- 
tures in which to parade the formal worship of Him who 
had not whereon to lay his head, people will evince more 
desire to heed his injunctions and follow his holy ex- 
ample.” 


CHAPTER LXXVHI. 

The talk became more general as the cheery blaze from 
the wide fire-place continued its fitful gleams through the 
room. Of course, with the religious zeal of the early col- 
onists, especially among Puritans and Quakers, there 
could hardly be neighborly converse without more or less 
reference to the great cause which had exiled them from 
their native land. But with the stern exigencies of life in 
the New World, topics of more daily practical urgency 
necessarily absorbed a growing share of attention. On 
this occasion the conversation naturally ranged to embrace 
a comparison of destructive storms and the changes of sea- 
sons, from which it widened to consequent changes in 
husbandry and the growing wolf ravages as curtailing its 
profits. 

”0 dear me,” said the quick-witted fisherman’s wife, 
” changes enough, surely, in both land and water; though, 
for that matter, a body need’nt be sorry to see bears and 
catamounts hunted back from the woods nor whales from 
the river, for sturgeon remain enough to bother bur fisher- 
erman.” 

“And upon fishermen,” said Friend Pusey, “we are 
likely to be more dependent in future, seeing how rapidly 
deer are being killed by hunters and sheep by \volves. 
With decreasing game we have been looking more to 
poultry and mutton for meat supplies; and thus the multi- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


555 


plying wolf raids become a serious consideration. What 
thinkest thou, Gabriel, of the project of making a general 
levy to destroy the pests, although, perchance, it doth not 
so directly concern thee in thy island home ?” 

“Ye must zleep not ofer it,” said Uncle Gabe, suddenly 
aroused from a nap in his cozy corner, while rubbing his 
eyes in some bewilderment. ‘‘In der olden time ve got 
blenty venison but leetle mutton: den deer vas scheap und 
scheep vas deer, but now dese rafenous volves in fieldt und 
foldt make scheep dear again but no make deer again 
scheap. Und zo ve get in zome badt scrapes mit der 
come und der deer gone a’readty.” 

At this lucid effusion from the scarcely awakened 
Dutchman, suppressed merriment twisted the peculiar lines 
radiating from Friend Pusey’s eyes, while the merry- 
maker bestowed a sleepy wink upon his Virginian friend. 
But the chance diversion having momentarily checked the 
talk, it readily came back to their latest and most absorb- 
ing experiences. It busied itself with the incidents of the day 
for some time longer, when the guests made a movement 
to depart. But the Quaker host and hostess would not 
hear of anyore leaving them until morning. In their 
grateful hearts restful peace and a pensive content had 
succeeded racking strain and sore anxieties; and as they 
had been jostled from their Quakerly quiet by the flood, 
so they felt a requiting comfort in the prolonged presence 
of those who had aided in averting the worst effects of 
that flood. 

And so all were made comfortable for the night; and the 
gusty March winds and the sullen smothered wash of the 
swollen waters lulled the sleepers in that little stone man- 
sion, which still stands as a forceful if mute witness to 
early colonial days in the peaceful land of Penn. In the 
morning they all gazed with unabated interest over the 
turbulent current which held its resistless way without 
having either risen or receded during the night. 

Then, with a warming breakfast and warmer inter- 
changes among friendly hearts, the guests took their leave; 
— all but Rupert Fairfield. That renovated young man 
seemed to have suddenly felt a renewed interest in every- 
thing pertaining to beautiful Quakerism, flood-stayed mill- 
ing, ravenous wolves and suffering lambs, which all de- 
in abided his presence. 

“ Und shtill, of ye don’t vas happy, Rupe, vhy — ” the 
sentence was completed by a quizzical wink and a signifi- 
cant thrust of his thumb toward his island home. 


.556 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


“Oh, I shall come, Master Don,” said Rupert; “I am 
still enough of a Sancho Panza to keep looking out for 
any strange little island that this big freshet maj^ have 
spared.” 

The pleasantry veiled a more threatening reality than 
either suspected. For when the returning Sea Gull dou- 
bled Verdrietige Hoeck, the wondering skipper beheld a, 
wild waste of waters, amid which he could distinguish his 
submerged home by the island tree-clumps and the low 
buildings which appeared to be floating among them. 
Upon his arrival Uncle Gabe found matters not so bad as 
they seemed from a distance. His island exhibited no 
dry land, to be sure, but the water had subsided from his 
floors, which, with that wonderful union of midnight tide 
and freshet had been buried knee-deep in the flood, float- 
ing many small articles in houses and shops and sweeping 
away some outside property. 

“ Between der deyvil und der deep sea,” he muttered, 
“ dey sport mit der absent islander: but ve shlist be glad 
it vas no vorse.” 

With the receding tide, indeed. Cooper’s island soon re- 
appeared and the current on its upward return rose but 
little above its ordinary level. And so with the subsidence 
of the land freshet matters on all the river side gradually 
resumed their quiet routine. 

After this the season came on apace. Deep blue skies, 
hot sunshine and cold winds contended for mastery. The 
conflict stirred breathings of leafy mould from the yet 
naked forests and brought low quiverings of heated air 
over newly-ploughed fields. Then a grass}" scent was 
spread all abroad as a conquering incense; meadows and 
hill-sides grew more tenderly green, and the returning 
robins sang and screamed in gladdening triumph. Then 
peach and apple trees mingled their blossoms in the vernal 
array: soon were heard the voice of the whip-poor-will 
and the down swoop of the night-hawk, and again the 
humble settlers rejoiced at the sweet strains of Uncle 
Gabe’s sunrise hymn, which once more floated to them 
from the open porch of the island cabin. 

And so another fair spring and summer glided away. 
Seed-time and harvest came and went, and all things re- 
sumed their wonted way ; all save one — owing to the dis- 
aster which the second time had befallen the mill on Ches- 
ter creek, recourse was once more had to the old mill at 
Turtle Falls on the Shelpot, which necessitated prompt at- 
tention to the more urgent of its long-needed repairs. 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


557 


From this cause there was less occasion to go up the river, 
and as time would be required to construct the mile-long 
race necessary to preclude future calamities to the Chester 
creek mills, there was likely to be delay in the resumption 
of full intercourse between that locality and the several 
river-side communities. Already, indeed, the comparative 
non-intercourse was being sadly felt by our friends at 
Christine. 

For summer had gone. Its dark prime had yielded to 
the fuller ripeness of September, and Ebba had begun to 
experience the vague longings, the tender sadness born of 
nature’s first decay, when Okowela one bright day pad- 
died across to inform Uncle Gabe that there was soon to be 
a council of Indian Sachems to meet at the widow 
Staelcop’s, to consider the further and fuller sale of lands 
to Governor Penn, and that Caleb Pusey had told him that 
he expected to join the ofiicial Friends to be present at the 
council. The islander lost no time in giving the informa- 
tion to Ebba. That young lady’s face brightened with 
more gladness than she could well explain, except that 
she needed change, and the event would afford diversion. 

The conference had been solicited by the chiefs through 
Captain Cock, and they had designated the place at the 
widow Staelcop’s and fixed upon the 29th of September 
as a convenient time for it, being about a fortnight before 
the commencement of the annual Indian fall hunt, which 
would cause their absence during the winter. In response, 
the Provincial Council at Philadelphia had deputed the 
secretary with Capt. Thomas Holmes, John Symcock and 
other friends and councillors, to meet the Indians at the 
time and place proposed, with full power to treat with 
them for their lands. 

Bright and bland came that 29th of September, 1685. 
Already the swamp maples wore a deep red foliage, and 
the earliest tints on sunny slopes and southern edges of 
forests were aglow with the delicate and varied shades 
which are fair in themselves and fairer in their promise of 
the richer radiance of hastening October. With these as a 
* setting it was a bizarre picture that was presented at the 
home of the widow Staelcop on that fair September day. 
On a gently sloping lawn, the tawny chieftains with their 
painted bodies and bright red blankets, crowned with gay 
feathers and arrayed in gorgeous trappings, were grouped 
in the customary form of a half circle, while facing them 
stood a small coterie of drab-clothed Quakers in knee- 
breeches with shoe buckles and broad-brimmed hats. 


558 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


Among the bedizened sachems was Lare Packenah, 
Tareekham, Pettquessit, Essepenaick, Kekelappan, Ma- 
kaloha and Powey, and in a side group of promiscuous 
warriors, Friends and settlers, the tall straight figure of 
Okowela and the large-headed and square form of Caleb 
Pusey were observed. It was a motley assemblage, and 
as seen among the scattered trees on the grassy carpet of 
sobering green with skirting hues of changing foliage and 
the graceful sweep of the softly flowing Brandywine, the 
tout ensemble, touched by the mellowing autumnal sun, was 
full of color and warm life, a radiant picture alike in its 
strong lines and blended tones. 

And the picture had its admirers. For a handsome 
couple of on-lookers stood near in absorbed contemplation. 
One of them was a female of slender flgure in a Quaker 
garb of tasteful neatness, whose cheeks suggested the dis- 
solution of roses in creamy snow. Her companion was 
Rupert Fairfield. It had bee:, six months since any of his 
Christine friends had seen .he Virginian. Marvellous 
change ! His look of haggar.i desperation had given place 
to an expression of sprightly and hopeful, peace, and his 
face was radiant with happinevSS. He had been pointing 
out to the lady, Okowela in the general group, and Ebba 
among the by-standers; but neither the latter nor Rupert 
could well define the .instinctive delicacy which mutuall}" 
impelled an avoidance of each other at that particular 
time; and so all looked on in a general way in vague 
silence. 

But Rupert and his lovely companion were observed as 
well as observers; and their special observers were less 
swayed by delicate instincts. For on the opposite side of 
the assemblage stood Nicodemus Knight in endearing 
companionship with the Anderson maiden who had jilted 
him for Rupert; while old dame Thekla between them was 
leering with twisted vision from one to the other in malign 
enjoyment of the situation. Mr. Knight, who retained all 
his fondness for bovine characterizations, continued gazing 
at his old rival as if desirous of attracting his attention to 
the recovery he had made; and he was heard boasting to 
those nearest him that 

“ ’Twas easy takin’ back the blear-eyed heifer after 
Rupe Fairfield was laid out so cold by that high-mettled 
and neat-heeled kicker from Sweden. Now he is took up 
with a likelier heifer than either one. ’Sblood ! and if 
she should kick his soarin’ pertensions as holler as t’other 
one done it. I’d be rewenged enough to hitch to a 


Ebb a Borjeson. 559 

blind-eyed heifer, let alone the sweet creetur I’ve got here 
at Illy side.” 

The treaty-council speedily concluded its proceedings. 
The offers of the Indian land claimants were promptly ac- 
cepted and as prompt a dispersion of the assemblage was 
hindered only by the red man’s invariable habit of long de- 
liberation. For a stipulated quantity of match-coat, stroud- 
waters, blankets, kettles, pipes, wampum, sugar, bottles 
and other articles, they agreed to convey to William Penn 
all the lands between Quing Quingus and Upland creeks 
along the west side of Delaware, ” backwards as far as a 
man can ride in two days with a horse,” the deed for 
which was to be executed and the articles delivered 
at New Castle the following day. 

At the earnest solicitation of Uncle Gabe when the con- 
ference broke up, Caleb Pusey agreed to remain over 
night at Cooper’s island in order to witness the completion 
of the treaty the next day, but Rupert declared it 
requisite to return at once with his companion to her 
home. The Virginian’s face was so full of buoyant joy 
that the islander followed him with a quizzical grin. 

“Go to, Rupe !” he whispered as he detained him; 
“haf done now mit cards und cockatrices! Mit der sec- 
ond King Richard tou shust shalt ask — 

‘ And must I ravel out 

My weaved-up follies?’ — 

und den rafle ’em oudt at once a’readty, or der foul fiend 
catch thee ! Mit such a prize ‘ There’s beggary in the love 
that can be reckoned’ ; und tou shalt say to her mit old Ben 
Jonson, 

‘ Drink to me only with thine eyes. 

And I will pledge with mine; 

Or leave a kiss but in the cup 
And I’ll not look for wine !’ ” 

The last words as they died on the evening air were 
scarcely heard by Rupert as he hastened after his 
companion while the Dutch host turned to take Friend 
Pusey to his home. 

“ But haf not der red man pefore released all deir claim 
to dese lands?” queried Uncle Gabe as they proceeded. 

“ ’Tis not unlikely,” replied Friend Pusey. 

“ Und to pay dem for a domain ‘ backvards so far as a 
man can ride in two days mit a horse,’ is to buy more landt 
for Ford Baltimore dan for Vilhelm Penn; pecause der 


560 Ebba Borjeson. 

man und horse vill cross Penn’s boundary in half a day or 
less.” 

” It is quite possible.” 

“ Und how vas dot den?” 

‘ ‘ It has been the desire of William Penn not to drive 
sharp bargains with these red brethen, and he has never 
sought to question them too closely about their lands. It 
is little enough they receive in an}^ event. The Proprie- 
tary’s great object is to satisfy the Indians and live in 
peace with them. To that end the spirit more than the 
letter is essential. They are children of nature easily 
pleased, and our faith is that they will repay in kind, re- 
turning love for love and good for good.” 

“ Und ’tis a fait dey deserf und vill repay. But to buy 
deir landt more as once und puy more landt for der Mary- 
landters as for your own beoples, vas to be unshust mit 
yourselves, metinks. ’ ’ 

“ Better so than be unjust to others.” 

“Veil now, dot vas to brove fait mit vorks, sure 
enough.” 

‘ ‘ How else can it be proved on earth ? ‘ By their fruits 

ye shall know them,’ sayeth the Divine Master. Is not 
faith after all but a means and test to the end ? What 
does thee think, Gabriel?” 

“ O, metinks not much. I more feel as tinks. Und I 
deserf not much credit to do right; for mein conscience so 
lashes me vhen I do wrong dot I got no peace; und so I 
must seek der better vay if only to shun discomfort, shust 
as I gome in ondt ov der rain.” 

“And in that thou doest well. For although prior 
travail may bring more contrasting peace, prevention is 
better than cure, and the promptest heeding of the Inward 
Light soonest leadeth unto righteousness. That one word 
Rightcousfiess, more pervades the Holy Scriptures than 
any other, and can all else therein more grasp their very 
essence and spirit, or better exhibit their aim and end?” 

“Veil, I yust don’t know bretty veil. Somedimes, me- 
tinks human life und der Holy Scriptures be all alike but 
a vondrous enigma.” 

‘ ‘ And so they greatl}^ are to the head ; but they be not 
so hidden to the Ineart, if we heed its whisperings. Where- 
fore is it better to interpret the written word by that guid- 
ing light and law of God planted within us, even as He 
gave us feeling before thought. And so, Gabriel, me- 
thinks thee is divinely led when thee more feels than 
thinks, as thee expresses it. ” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


561 

“ Veil, I only know dot I can’t afoord not to shtrive for 
der good und avoidt der badt, vhatefer I belief or disbe- 
lief. ’ ’ 

“ Nor is the matter so important as a profession. For 
I imagine that on the day of judgment the query will be 
less ‘ did ye believe ’ than ‘ did ye fulfil.’ Whatever the 
glory of the life beyond surely the best preparation for it 
must be a worthy life here. It is not enough to be pro- 
fessors — it is what we do not what we say, that shall win 
or lose salvation. The end of all is righteousness for the 
Father’s kingdom, toward which grace and faith are means 
even as the seed time and due growth precede the harvest. 
Faiths are many; the end one.” 

“Yaw, yaw, dere vas many greeds in der vorld each 
pointin’ to der only right vay to Heafen. But metinks it 
make no tdifference zo long as ve dtake mit us goodt fruit 
as der one ting needful : for I find dot vhen I goes up to 
your mill mit wheat you nefer ax me vhat road I gome or 
how I get dere, vheder by landt or vater, but dere I am; 
und if mein vheat be goot mitout smut or scheat ’tvas none 
of your tdam piziness vhich vay I'gome.’’ 

“ Nay, Gabriel, a less emphatic way of expressing thy- 
self would be equally intelligible: but in thy swear word 
thee may perchance have some barely possible reference 
to the damages twice inflicted upon my mill dam as ex- 
emplifying those of violent bigotry in religious profes- 
sion.’’ 

“O! aye, aye; helm aport. Bast!” which timely yell 
helped save the endangered gravity of the skipper and 
his Quaker friend; and so, when the multitudinous boy 
crew, now helmsman, swung the yacht’s bow to the 
landing place, the two men leisurely strode to the cabin of 
the hospitable islander. 


CHAPTER LXXIX. 

Another year had nearly gone; and now the fifth autumn 
of Ebba’s residence in the New World was exhibiting its 
earliest tints. It had been an uneventful season. Rupert 
Fairfield had been seen no more in the settlement; several 
of the children had grown beyond the need of their 
cousin’s constant care; there had been fewer opportunities 
for Ebba to accompany Uncle Gabe upon his boating er- 

36 


562 


Ebba Borjeson. 


rands; and the 5^oung lady had not wholly escaped the 
loneliness which conies ever to the people of that nar- 
rowing world who fail to lose themselves in engrossing 
work or renew themselves in a widened reach of human 
fellowship. 

But now there was to be a change. A girl baby had ar- 
rived in the household of Caleb Pusey on Chester creek, 
which had been childless since the death of little Ann, the 
emigrant child, some four years before. The new-comer 
entailed increased duties upon the rather limited strength 
of Deborah Wayne, the sojourning Quakeress; and as the 
father had already been much absent in performing his 
duties as head of the Monthly Court of Peacemakers, and 
had now become a member of the government at Phila- 
delphia, whither he had gone for a further absence, it had 
been arranged for Ebba to visit the home of the Quaker 
miller, become better acquainted with young friend Wayne 
and assist her in her added duties. 

It was a bright warm morning on which Uncle Gabe 
took Ebba in the Sea Gull on this journey. There was a 
suspicious humidity in the soft clear air and the skipper 
had long watched a patch of mackerel sky in the west. 
But presently dismissing all anxiety as to the immediate 
weather outlook, he resigned the helm to Sebastian Cabot 
and took a seat near his one passenger. As usual when 
his boat began to move to his satisfaction, the Dutchman’s 
tongue began to wag with quotations, or with jollity or com- 
ments of his own. On this occasion his eager speech ran 
in apt comparison of Job and Hamlet jas the two profound 
epics compassing the scope and epitome of life. In doing 
this he interpolated at times some jocular comments on the 
ease with which the Sea Gull overhauled and left in her 
wake the public barge that made weekly trips between 
New Castle and Philadelphia when there were any pas- 
sengers to go, and which now appeared to be carr3dng the 
unusual number of two persons. 

As our friends passed Marcus Hook they noticed a num- 
ber of people who seemed to be running hastily about on 
the shore, which they thought little of until, as they were 
rounding the Essex House, they saw people in greater 
numbers and apparently more astir in the town of Chester. 
Upon entering the mouth of the creek Uncle Gabe thought 
he saw Rupert Fairfield among the people on shore. He 
landed to make enquiries and then hastened back to the 
yacht. Eeaving that in charge of Sebastian he helped 
Ebba ashore and with her approached a group of agitated 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


563 


people up the bank. TKe excitement was every moment 
increasing, and people, with hoarse shouts and frenzied 
gesticulations, were rushing about in wild alarm. 

Rupert Fairfield and the young Quakeress had come 
down from the mills to meet the visitors and found the 
people mad with excitement. There had been rumors of 
an Indian outbreak. At ten o'clock the night before a 
messenger had arrived out of the woods and told the peo- 
ple that three families near Ridley creek had been cut off 
by the savages. Friend Yeatman had taken two young 
men and gone out on horseback to enquire into the matter. 
They had found the houses deserted and the neighbor- 
hood in great alarm. The absent father of one of the 
fleeing families, hearing that five hundred Indians had 
collected to butcher the whites, had hastened homeward, 
and as he approached his house thought he heard a pitiful 
cr3" from his children for mercy and help, and so fled in 
terror to alarm the government at Philadelphia. But as 
Friend Yeatman and companions saw no actual signs of 
murder they .were disposed to question the truth of the re- 
port, and the elder Friend was endeavoring to allay the 
fears of the people. 

“ Who fetched der first rebort,” enquired Uncle Gabe, 
“ ov der pretended massacre ?” 

“ O, we heard it was to be afore,” replied a ghastly- 
faced alarmist. “Indian Meg and mix-eyed Poll told 
old Dutch Bertha nigh a week ago that the redskins 
meant to do it.” 

“ I shust guessed as much,” replied the Dutchman. 
“ Yhen I vas up here last veek I zaw dose oldt hags 
skulkin’ aboudt as if dey vas up to zome mizchief; und by 
der vay dey vas sayin’ badt tings of der red bredren und 
den sneaked avay at dark in their canoes ofer der river, I 
yust tought mebpe dey vas blayin’ zome scurfy dtrick.” 

‘ ‘ Scurvy trick ! say ye ? Who better than these 
two Indian women know the bloody work their red kin- 
dred be up to? I for one think ’em kind to give us timely 
warning. ’ ’ 

“Timely varnin’ ov vhat? I dtells ye dese two 
Indians vas a pair ov badt vomen. I’ve been up to 
Olive’s mill enough to know dot. Nopody dere vhere dey 
live vill belief vhat dey say.” 

‘ ‘ Nay, but they spake the truth when they warned us. 
The savages be already at their work.” 

“Yea, e’en as we talk,” cried another, “they are 
scalping women and children.” 


5^4 


Ebb a Bor'jeson. 


“ It’s the fault o’ these Quakers treatin’ ’em too well.” 

“Yes, for did’nt the New York governors always warn 
the people agin the treachery o’ the red devils?” 

‘ ' And did’nt the Dutch directors long afore ’em keep 
tellin’ the settlers to be on their guard agin the 
sneakin’ cut throats; for they was not to be trusted neither 
on the North or South river?” 

“Aye, alas,” replied Friend Yeatman, “and were 
rewarded for their distrust with sore trouble and blood- 
shed. Our Swedish predecessors, who treated the natives 
with trustful kindness, always lived peaceably with 
them; and no Friend has lost a drop of blood or been 
harmed by the red men.” 

“ But you’ll ketch it now. The hungry fiends have be- 
gun and they’ll make it up to ye in bloody measure.” 

“I believe it not; nor fear aught from those we 
have sought in simple friendship and fair dealing.” 

“None so blind as them as won’t see. I tell ye 
the fiends ’ll give ye kicks for your kindness and blood for 
your blessings.” 

“ I can find no evidence of it,” replied friend Yeatman. 

“ I went with others to the reputed scene of murder; 
we made cautious and careful enquiries and found no 
intimations of violence. Moreover, Chief Rinowehan and 
the young Okowela quite recently told us that the sachem 
who was omitted from the council at the widow Staelcop’s 
last year had since been reconciled, and that all cause of 
trouble had been happily adjusted at the last Indian 
Conference at Shackamaxon.” 

“None the less, the savages, I tell ye, are killin’ the 
settlers.” 

“ Was’nt the cry of murder only too well heard through 
the woods at Ridley ?” queried a by-stander. 

“ And who would’nt believe,” asked another, “when 
the woods rang with that boyish cry ‘O what shall 
I do ? My dame is killed and our house is burned ?’ ” 

“And did’nt Joe Burskin hear the war-whoop ; did’nt 
he see the redskins whirlin’ their tomahawks and smell the 
smoke of the burnin’ houses? Ye’ll be butchered for your 
blindness.” 

So went the contending talk. The people had seemed at 
first to be nearly equally divided between the alarmists and 
quietists, the latter chiefly composed of Quakers. But 
the former were manifestly gaining ground. They had 
been casting uneasy glances, and hastily strode to and fro 


Ebb a Borjeson. 565 

wildly increasing a frenzy that hindered preparations for 
flight or defence. 

It was now past the middle of the forenoon. A tempor- 
ary lack of definite news had but deepened the vague sense 
of danger, and while the more excitable kept rushing 
about asking eager questions, there was a growing feeling 
of anxiety which included many of those who at first had 
sought to allay the alarm. Ebba, during the hasty talk, 
stood a little apart in partial hearing, with her face toward 
the river. A few moments before she had noticed that the 
public barge they had passed in coming up the river had 
touched at the village shore and landed a passenger. She 
had casually observed so much when her attention was 
drawn elsewhere. The discussion had ceased; there was a 
sudden movement among the people impelled by some new 
excitement. 

The stranger who had landed from the barge was a tall, 
lean man with a haggard face and weather-worn attire. 
He advanced hastily among the excited people, and then, 
pausing to address a general question to them, asked in a 
loud voice whether any one could tell where Mr. Rupert 
Fairfield could be found. 

“This wa3^ friend,” said Deborah Wayne, who hap- 
pened to be standing nearest, “ if thou seekest Rupert he 
went hence but now to heed some urgent call and will re- 
turn betimes, methinks.” 

“ I bear a written message for him from Virginia.” 

“ In that case thee will perchance sooner deliver it in 
person by remaining here than by searching for him among 
these e’er shifting people.” 

“ Thank you, madame,” and the stranger tipped his hat 
as he deferentially took position by her side. 

It was at this moment that the group of talkers were 
suddenly startled by the new alarm last referred to. There 
was an outcry from a distance; all eyes were turned in one 
direction. A horseman suddenly dashed out of the lower 
woods toward Marcus Hook and galloped with fearful 
speed toward them. He swung his arms in wild gesticula- 
tion, his long hair streamed in the wind, and he continued 
lashing his foaming horse to increased speed. As he ap- 
proached the people in their quaking suspense the rider 
yelled to them in a loud quivering voice: 

“ Prepare for defence or flee for your lives ! The sav- 
ages arfe coming : they are raiding in from all sides of you 
—from Ridley creek, from Naaman’s creek and from the 
Brandywine. I am the messenger sent by the govern- 


566 


Ebb a Borjeso>i. 


ment. The worst reports are confirmed. Lose no time : 
save yourselves as best you may !” 

The rider did not alight ; he did not even stop his 
horse : he simply slacked his pace to reiterate the an- 
nouncement, and then setting spurs to his steed dashed on 
to Philadelphia. The effect upon the little town was inde- 
scribable. Women screamed with terror, children cried 
for protection, and stout-hearted men for a time were so 
paralyzed with vague fear that they moped with strange 
inaction. Coming thus with official deliverance the news 
carried conviction to the most persistent disbeliever in the 
reported insurrection. 

Startled by the growing alarm, Deborah Wayne instinct- 
ively turned in mute appeal to her chance companion. 
With a like impulse for her protection the stranger gave 
the Quakeress his arm. and the two moved toward the 
other people in a vague search for counsel and companion- 
ship. 

“ O, what a beautiful woman !” cried Ebba, as the cou- 
ple appeared from behind an obscuring house. Absorbed 
in one of her oddly-timed reveries, she had been strangely 
apart from the dire uproar and alarm about her. She had 
met the Quakeress only upon one brief occasion ; it had 
been nearly a year since she saw her, and now with her 
change of dress and a face flushed with excitement Ebba 
did not fully recognize her. Puzzled as to the identity of 
so charming a person, who seemed an exquisite combina- 
tion of Deborah Wayne and the lady Iduna, but lovelier 
than either, she had not observed the lady’s male compan- 
ion, whose momentary glance was turned upon some has- 
tening fugitive^ ; but when the stranger presently turned 
his face toward her Ebba started with a quick bounding of 
her heart : she felt herself choking with a strange wild 
commingling of fear and joy. With a powerful effort at 
self-control she yet grew dizzy, her knees trembled and 
her flushed face turned to marble. 

“ Mein schild!” cried Uncle Gabe, catching her as she 
tottered, “ O, don’t look like dot! vhat vas der matter? 
For Gott’s sake shpeak mit me — lean upon Ongle Cabe 
and thinking she had suddenly caught the growing alarm 
he bore the fainting girl down the slope, with the assur- 
ance that 

“Of ye vas avraid mit der Indians I vill safe ye from 
dem.” 

And, indeed, to be saved from the savages seemed now a 
nece.ssity of direst urgency. For additional confirmation 


Ebha Borjeson. 


567 


had just been received of the bloody outbreak, with added 
particulars of peculiar atrocity. No one longer doubted the 
speedy onslaught of the approaching Indians ; and while 
some of the people continued wringing their hands in idle 
despair, most of the town and immediate vicinity were in 
different ways trying to make readv for it. Some were ar- 
ranging their lighter effects for flight, others were preparing 
to make a stand in the old House of Defence, while a few 
of the gentlest Friends persisted in their faith that by the 
presentation of the simple truth they could avert the worst 
violence, even though the bloody work had really com- 
menced, of which indeed arriving fugitives and eye-wit- 
nesses left no further doubt. 

From the^ first there had been a frantic rush for the" 
boats as the only means of escape; and it was only by the 
timely shrewdness of Sebastian Cabot in anchoring the Sea 
Gull out in the stream that prevented the seizure and ap- 
propriation of the yacht by the terrified runaways. As it 
was., they could not have been kept from pushing out to 
the anchored craft, except for the threatening demonstra- 
tions with which the plucky boy followed his artifice; and 
now as Uncle Gabe bore Ebba down the bank and the boat 
was brought to the shore, the rush for it was renewed with 
such frenzy that the skipper was compelled to supple- 
ment his expostulations with one-armed blows of lusty 
persuasion in order to keep off the half-crazed deserters. 
The noisy contention restored the insensible girl to con- 
sciousness. 

“Nay, indeed,” she said, comprehending matters as she 
quietly opened her eyes; “ 1 have little fear of red men; 
ah, ’tis not that; ’twas but a passing weakness; it is gone; 
pray pardon me, and speak nothing of it. But ’twere 
better I should go,” and to the amazement of her protector 
and by-standers, she broke away and sprang with a single 
leap on board the yacht. 

“ For weeping women,” she gaily added with a back- 
ward look, ‘ ‘ are more hindrance than help whether ye fight 
or flee.” 

' ‘ Gott be praised ! Und may He speed your habpy 
voyage. But only helpless v^omen shall go mit ye. Shtandt 
back, ye skulkin’ dastards !” and as he held back the male^ 
cravens and aided the struggling women on board the Sea* 
Gull, he called to his boatswain to take the cargo to his 
island home, ” und gome back for anoder loadt.” 

As the yacht pushed out a strange look was in Kbba’s 
face. It was pale with the tremor of suppressed tumult. 


568 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


In the stranger and his beautiful companion she had just 
beheld the partial realization of her dream ! She was 
eager to be alone with herself and her thoughts; and in the 
tearful company of those fleeing females she felt herself 
indeed alone. 

“Like, and O! how unlike;” she mused, “yet he it 
was !” With all the sad changes — though in odd, thread- 
bare apparel, with that worn face with its sunken cheeks 
and hard ^et lines— no, no, her heart did not, could not 
deceive her — through all she felt — in her soul’s depths she 
knew she had seen the long-lost Halvor Mondahl! 


CHAPTER LXXX. 

The Sea Gull had been gone some hours; and it was 
approaching three o’clock in the afternoon when a deputa- 
tion of six Friends from Philadelphia, headed by Caleb 
Pusey, rode into town. The return of the messenger with 
the confirmatory news seemed only to confirm the disbelief 
of the last-named Quaker in the reported outbreak of the 
Indians. He had repeatedly expressed his confidence in 
the good faith and peaceful purposes of the red men, and 
now with a fresh tale of ghastly horrors exhibiting their 
treachery, the trustful Friend re-asserted his faith with 
more emphasis than ever. 

Caleb Pusey had studied the Indian character; and the 
more he learned of it the more cause he had found for treat- 
ing the natives as trustworthy friends. Conscious that 
they had most studiously aimed to be just and true to their 
red brethern, he believed that Friends had gained the 
friendship they deserved. He therefore doubted in the 
first place whether there had actually been any Indian up- 
rising at all as reported, or if so he believed it had been 
caused by the wicked machinations of jealous mischief- 
makers. And he felt so assured that all trouble could be 
averted by the compelling might of simple truth that he 
promptly offered to be one of any half dozen Friends to go 
*and make proper explanation to the misled natives, pro- 
vided all should go unarmed. 

This course was urged with such masterful force against 
the remonstrances of the skeptical and the quakings of the 
timid, that within an hour of the return of the messenger 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


569 


the six mounted Quakers were on their wa\' to Chester. A 
that place thej^ were looked upon at first with questioning 
wonder, but when the people fully comprehended their 
mission they stared in blank amazement, and mocked in 
protesting derision. 

“ ’Tis a foolhardy errand,” said one. 

“Yea, a needless exposure to dire dangers,” cried 
another. 

“Nay, far worse,” declared a third, “for ’tis surely 
to ride into the very jaws of death without excuse.” 

To these and similar declarations which grew thicker 
and louder with heated repetitions. Friend Pusey merely 
shook his head with a deepening expression of resolute 
purpose. With each jeer or friendly protest his mild 
strong face evinced a sterner firmness in their peaceful mis- 
sion. But the deterring influences had a different effect 
upon some other members of the deputation. For as the 
people gathered about them bringing still further confir- 
mation of the massacre, and one after another solemnly 
warned them against so dangerous a mission, two of the 
Friends exhibited some signs of wavering. At this mo- 
ment the fast-assembling crowd was joined b}' Rupert Fair- 
field with a company of young men he was organizing for 
defence. The active Virginian reported that a reliable 
witness of the bloody work of the savages had just come 
in from Naaman’s creek, bringing word that the Indians had 
gone from that region to join their brethren on the Brandy- 
wine, where they were collecting in great numbers for 
an immediate attack on Chester. Upon hearing this, one 
of the wavering Friends declined proceeding upon what he 
now deemed a useless errand, and even Caleb Pusey 
seemed at last convinced that the Indians had actually be- 
gun acts of violence. But their mission, if more danger- 
ous, was now also the more imperative ; and he was the 
more resolved to proceed in it. 

“One of our party,” he announced aloud, “declines 
going further with us; is there any Friend present whom 
the spirit moveth to take his place ?” There was a mo- 
ment’s silence. 

“ Better the rest of you follow his sensible example,” 
cried one of the crowd; “you’re going to your deaths as ^ 
sure as fate.” 

“ What! these five men?” asked Rupert Fairfield; “ and 
unarmed ?” 

Friend Pusey nodded his assent. 

‘ ‘ Absolutely without weapons ?” 


570 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


‘ ‘ Save the sword of the Spirit and the armor of Divine 
Truth,” replied Caleb, “than which there can be no 
shield more trustworthy.” 

” 'Tis much, in a cause so just. But with a foe dead to 
justice and mercy? Better allow some of us to arm and 
follow on by way of precaution.” 

” Nay, that would be self-betrayal: it would argue lack 
of faith in our own peace-offerings.” 

“But the red fiends will not heed ye; their minds are 
poisoned and their passions inflamed; ’tis sheer madness 
to approach them; they will scorn your further friendship, 
for they have doubtless been tampered with and de- 
ceived.” 

“The more need we should undeceive and pacify 
them.” 

‘ ‘ But in their frenzy they will butcher you ere they 
know 3^our purpose, perchance because of that purpose.” 

” In that we can but trust the protection of the Father 
who prompts us to face danger and lighteth the way 
therein.’’ 

Mr. Fairfield knew too well the gentle inflexibility of his 
friend Pusey to further persist in his remonstrances. And 
so, as Friend Yeatman had volunteered to take the place 
of the declining member of the party, while its hesitating 
member had renewed his determination to proceed, the 
deputation rode forth upon its peaceful errand. As they 
went applauding cheers instinctivel}^ rose from the lately 
mocking crowd; for few men fail to feel the sublimity of 
that faith and courage which brave death for noble duty. 

“With the temper of lambs and the hearts of lions,” 
said Rupert, gazing after the receding Quakers; ‘‘men of 
peace indeed, but no men of war require so high an order 
of courage. Scarce more certain is the final death of us 
all than that these noble men will be the first victims of 
the very savages they have befriended. I for one refuse 
to accept their generous sacrifice.” 

” Bravo! bravo!” came from the lately scoffing people^ 
who began to be ashamed of the selfish banter they had 
exhibited. 

“Better court danger than flee from it,” resumed Ru- 
pert; “better defend the Quakers there than fall skulking 
victims here; let us follow on and share their fate.” 

“Good! good! -So sa^^ we all: we’ll stand by ’em.” 
For with the usual fickleness of excited crowds there was 
now a growing re-action favoring the Friends. Their in- 
tercession in some half-defined wa^^ had brought a sense of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


571 


protection, and with it a repentant and responsive appre- 
ciation of their peaceful bravery. Rupert took advan- 
tage of the change to arouse them to action. He was a 
man of ardent temperament and eloquent speech. He had 
already a band of young men ready to follow whither he 
should lead, and now, with his contagious enthusiasm, he 
speedily increased the number of his followers to some 
fitty men. 

While he was thus actively engaged, shaming the fears 
or selfishness of some and deftly employing flattery or 
ridicule with others, Rupert was about to accost a rough- 
looking man, when — 

“ As I live!” he suddenly exclaimed, “it is Bob Handy! 
why, when and why came you here, Robert ?” 

“ I came at noon to-day, sir, and brought you this letter; 
I was unable to find you sooner.” 

“ But — but — ” replied Rupert as he received the missive 
and glancing at its address, crumpled it into his pocket. 

‘ ‘ By hard work I' earned some months of shortened ser- 
vitude and gained my freedom so much earlier, sir.” 

“You are just in time ; you are en route to your Puri- 
tan friends, I suppose, but we need recruits. Help us here 
and then — 

“Nay, sir, my destination is hereabouts on the Dela- 
ware among my Swedish countrymen : for I was born in 
Sweden.” 

“You a Swede? Why, we all thought you a Puritan 
from the Bay province of Massachusetts.” 

“ I ne’er said so, sir. But I confess I allowed you to be 
fixed in that idea ; for a Northman revolts at the thought 
of being a slave and seeks to conceal his own and even his 
country’s name : his free instincts, his pride, his 
shame — ” 

“Well, well, I admit the wrong of it. But that is 
neither here nor there now. We’re in desperate straights, 
and no time to lose. Every precious moment must count 
against these red devil assailants. Help us repel them 
and ril introduce you to your countrymen. I suppose, of 
course, you wish to meet them?” 

The stranger gave a respectful bow affirmatively. 

“ Well, some are at this place : more are on the Chris- 
tina and other streams below: but they’ll be neither here 
nor there if these marauding redskins can exterminate 
them. Join our company, Robert, and aid us. For a man 
as strong and ready and faithful as you are will make a 


572 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


good sol — but you’re feeble : you look haggard and ill.” 

“ I will join you, sir.” 

” Dat vas goot,” said Uncle Gabe, as he that moment 
joined them. ” Dere you haf von sick recruit und here a 
veil man mit von arm : all kinds must to der rescue.” 

It was barely more than half an hour after the departure 
of the Quakers before they were followed by a company 
thus hastily formed and provided with such varied arms as 
could be mustered. They had no clear idea of their own 
purpose : they had little thought or care for their incon- 
sistency in belieying that more than five hundred savages 
were advancing wdth bloody designs, yet rashly meeting 
them with a tenth of that number. But in their growing 
impatience they imagined nothing could be worse than in- 
activity and suspense, while their most definite idea was 
to place themselves within supporting reach of the depu- 
tation in readiness for any emergency. To this end the}’ 
bore more to the left than the course taken by the Quak- 
ers, with a view to their relief should they be hemmed in 
between the savages and the river, by which route they 
would strike the Brandywine in its lower course. 

When they reached the thick woods on the easterly 
bank of that stream the sun was barely an half hour high. 
Its dusky red beams were deepening the slight tints of the 
September foliage. But there were quickening indications 
of a change. There had been a prophecy in that morn- 
ing’s patch of mackerel sky, and now a fast-rising wind 
violently swayed the tree-tops and'.scudding clouds quickly 
obscured the sun. Wheeling to the right the company 
skirted the dense rocky forest as they marched up the 
winding creek. Instinctively they quickened their steps, 
but faster hurried the howling gale. With many-sided 
fury the wind screamed through the woods, peal after peal 
of angr}^ thunder shook the rocky hillsides, zig-zag light- 
ning darted among the gh'ostly tree-trunks and rolling 
masses of black clouds hastened the enclosing darkness. 
Amid this uproar they were hastily skirting the wind-tossed 
forest along the summit of the bordering hills and had 
just deflected into a leftward trail entering the denser 
woods, when there came from the head of the column the 
startling cry of “ redskins in front !” All eyes were con- 
centrated forward and there, across a bend of the Brandy- 
wine, a moving mass of dusky savages were deepening the 
gloom of its steep rocky banks under the waving tree-tops 
and fast-lowering skies. The suddenness of the alarm 
staggered the men into a huddled pause, followed by a 


Ebba Borjeson. 


573 - 


movement of retreat, when they were met by the astound- 
ing yell of “ savages in the rear !” 

A wild panic ensued : the men singly or in chance cou- 
ples or squads as they pushed out were turned back as by 
a confronting enemy in every direction. It was an appall- 
ing moment. To be thus encompassed in a gloomy for- 
est with murderous savages as night was shutting down 
amid the growing fury of the maddened elements, was 
enough to strike terror to the stoutest hearts. 

“To the cave !’’ cried Rupert, as a sudden flash of light- 
ning revealed an open way; “ to the big cave; there we 
can make a stand and there we’ll find defence or death.” 
He had well learned the place in his rambles as hunter 
and suitor; and so calling on the men to follow their leader 
in single file, he took an oblique trail across and partially 
down the rugged steep to a tangled growth of bushes and 
grapevines, and then turning abruptly to the right came 
to a low narrow aperture in a huge mass of towering rocks. 
One by one the company bent low and crept through this 
small opening into a large rocky cell of long angular 
shape, which had two other ground entrances and a length- 
ened crevice faintly admitting light and air overhead. As 
soon as all had entered the men were called quickly to 
lend a hand in toppling over a couple of nicely balanced 
rocks so as to close up two of the entrances; and thus en- 
cased amid thick rocks, not destitute of light and air, the 
retreat was an effectual prison or an impregnable strong- 
hold as the case might be. That it might prove neither of 
necessity was the fond hope of its present occupants; for 
with the cautious silence and celerity of their movement 
they trusted they had not been observed by the savages. 
Vain delusion ! They had hardly composed themselves 
with a sense of security when the appalling warwhoop, 
with savage yells and rattling arrows upon their rocky 
shelter, aroused them to a new sense of the perils that 
beset them. 

Nor was this all ; for upon peeping through the openings 
the lightning’s vivid flashes revealed the crouching forms 
of the warriors creeping toward them between the rocks 
and trees. 

“ Hist ! and hold your fire,” ordered their leader, “ un- 
til I give the word.” And then as the dusky figures crept 
stealthily nearer and nearer there followed such an awed 
hush of suspense to the caged garrison as threatened be- 
trayal by their own resounding hearts. In the brief inter- 
vals of the raging storm the savages seemed darkly con- 


574 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


founded with its ghostly conjurings and mysterious hor- 
rors; for fitful spectres and deafening din added a nameless 
dread to the definable onslaught of nature and man. 

On came both with coupled and competing fury. The 
crouching forms were within a few rods; they paused; 
they peered about; they dropped to the ground and slowly 
rose; they stole cautiously to the nearest mouth of the 
cave; they applied their ears to the crevices. It was a 
moment of fearful suspense. The savages left the first 
opening. Heart-quakings were lulled; hope revived. But 
hark ! they approach the second; that, too, they presently 
pass for the third and last entrance. The men begin to 
breathe freer, when suddenly a stunning shot is heard 
within the cave, and the cry rings forth that the fiends 
have forced the rear entrance. A wild uproar ensued. 
Amid the darkness of the cell neither men nor objects 
could be distinguished, and the confusion of yells, oaths 
and blows hurled indiscriminately among friends and foes 
beggars all description. It had nearly reached a fatal 
issue when luckily it was discovered that the alarm had been 
caused by the accidental discharge of a gun held by one 
of the garrison in the stress of their nervous confusion. 

But from this relief within, their attention was drawn to 
the redoubled uproar without. For now the yell of the 
redskins, the pelting hail of their balls and arrows, and 
the simultaneous bursting of the storm, gave warning 
that the allied assault of their enemies was hastening to 
direst climax. The ardor of the assailed could no longer 
be restrained. Pointing their guns through every avail- 
able aperture and crevice they fired at the flitting shadows 
or fixed blackness without: for the enemy seemed so 
omnipresent that there was scarce need of taking aim 
to insure the work of death. This was continued with 
unabated furore until the human foe was silenced — either 
that or his puny fire was drowned in the grander artillery 
of Heaven; and as they slackened their fire they found 
the outward darkness dispelled by incessant lightning and 
heard only the still pealing thunder and pouring rain. 

Then the cave occupants ceased their active defence; 
but with guarding precautions they held the position till 
morning, when a venturesome squad sallied forth to 
reconnoitre. They expected to see the ground strewn 
with dead Indians; they did not see an enemy dead 
or alive, nor the faintest trace of the recent presence 
of one. The squad returned and reported that the 
repulsed foe had carried off his slain. At all events 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


575 


darkness and danger had disappeared, and when the corn- 
pan}^ emerged from their gloomy cavern they were greeted 
by jocund nature with a suggestion of kindly banter in her 
frevShened face. For between the moveless tree-tops the 
blue sky looked down with unwonted calm, and the 
breathings of the sweet morning were only those of 
peace! peace ! More peace indeed than was wholly 
relished by Captain Fairfield, whose face wore a depre- 
catory look of chagrin. But it gave a quizzical breadth to 
the kindly smile of Gabriel Van Onkelbach; it lent 
a ripple of amused interest to the pallid face of the 
stranger; and gradually the suspicion stole over the whole 
company that they had hoaxed themselves with visionary 
warriors, when in the bewildering fury of the storm they 
had mistaken its fitful semblances for real Indians; had 
imagined the sharp claps of rattling thunder to be the 
fierce clatter of their bullets and arrows, and though tthey 
heard exultant yells and fierce war-whoops in the cry 
of the screech-owl and the night screams of the wild cats 
and wolves. 

Meanwhile, the party of peace-makers had made their 
way with all proper speed to the Indian town higher 
up the Brandywine. It stood within that graceful bend of 
the creek overlooked by the rocky acclivity, since known 
as Point Lookout, and close to which the Northern circu- 
lar boundary of Delaware was afterward drawn. There 
they found, not a muster of yelling savages with murder- 
ous designs, but a quiet people at their peaceful occupa- 
tions, all unconscious of the hubbub that had been raised 
on their account. The women were at work, the children 
at play, and the old lame chief reclined in peaceful con- 
tent in his wigwam. Lifting his wondering eyes as the 
deputation approached, he very mildly enquired what they 
all came for; but when in reply the Friends told him of the 
report started by the two Indian women and the resulting 
terror of the people, his brow clouded and his eyes flamed. 

“ The women ought to be burned to death,” he burst 
forth in gutteral indignation, and for a moment the old 
chief shook in a silent struggle with his wrath. 

‘ ‘ Has thee any complaint to make, ’ ’ enquired the lead- 
ing Friend Pusey, “of our treatment of thee or thy 
people ?” 

” Do any of thy red brethren,” added Friend Yeatman, 
” for any good reason wish a change; have you aught to 
say in anywise against the government, or our people, the 
Friends?” 


576 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


With a peculiar mingling of oifended fealty and inno- 
cent wonder, the chief rolled his enquiring eyes. 

“ Are we children,” he asked, ” that we cannot tell our 
friends from our foes ? Know we not the good Onas who 
would not steal our lands? In the red man’s heart is only 
kindness for him and all his people. ’Tis true that about 
fifteen pounds are still behind of our pay for the land he 
bought, but it is in safe hands and we are not in haste 
for it. For as the game of the red man goes out, the 
fruits of the white man come in to make the land better; 
but when the English come to settle it we expect to be 
paid.” 

” Of which thee may rest assured,” said Friend Pusey. 

” So far, then,” he continued, ” all is well; and we trust 
thee and thy brethren will persevere in such well-doing. 
If any speak ill of us we entreat thee to come to us even 
as we’ve come to thee when they spake ill of thy people. 
So shall we please the great God who made the world and 
all things therein; for we are all children of that common 
Father who is no respecter of persons, but causeth the 
sunshine and the rain to fall alike upon red men and white 
to the bringing forth of sustenance for all. And as the 
Father loveth all his' children, so should we, his children, 
love each other to secure the blessing of the Father.” 

” The white brother’s words are good; they say what 
is wise and true; and as God has given you corn, I advise 
you to get it in betimes; for we intend you no harm. 
Trust and Peace between the red men and his white 
brothers shall be as firm as yonder rock cliff !” and as the 
chief spoke he waved his hand toward the stone-faced 
height swept by the creek, over which vivid flashes of 
lightning flashed and a stunning clap of thunder burst at 
that instant and pealed through the surrounding forest. ‘ ‘ For 
lo !” he continued, ‘‘the wrath of the Great Spirit at e’en 
the shadow of distrust between his children! But go not 
away hungry or in haste. For see ! the sky grows black 
and big with storm; content ye with food and shelter in 
the red man’s camp, and go in peace in the morning.” 

And so they did. A large wigwam was set apart for the 
use of the Quaker guests; it was bountifully supplied 
with straw for bedding and with dried venison, tuckahoe 
and sappaun for food. Thus provided the visitors spent a 
night of fair comfort and some protection from the storm. 
In the morning they departed with renewed interchanges 
of peace and good will. Soon they met the storm-stayed 
company cn route from the cave, when the united votaries 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


577 


of peace and war took their homeward way. And so 
ended the sole Indian outbreak that ever convulsed the 
peaceful land of Penn. 


CHAPTER LXXXI. 

Ebba Borjeson was alone with her thoughts. The na- 
ture and depth of those thoughts the reader can better im- 
agine than the writer describe. With an instant’s chance 
glimpse her soul had been whelmed with joy — a menacing 
joy, a joy so burdened with memory, with regret, faith, 
hope, despair, that she felt herself alternately stirred to 
gladdening tumult and stilled in awe. She had seen the 
man whom she had sent away in sorrow five years before; 
and in the interval she had learned to love that man with 
a love known only in its fullness to the sound-hearted and 
lofty-souled of rich natures. 

In the rejection of the suitor had she exiled a friend ? 
So she had often queried with haunting sadness. But 
whether as suitor or friend she had yielded recompensing 
fealty. Through all changes, through fear, temptation 
and sickening doubt her woman’s soul had clung to him — 
clung with a longing which was a concealment of its love. 
And that love so long unconfessed could not but follow its 
object whether in life or death; for it was nourished upon 
a faith that knew no turning since it was born of the spirit, 
not of the flesh. 

But now that she had seen Halvor in the flesh Ebba be- 
gan to feel the disquiet, the whinings, the whims, the self- 
worries which belong to the flesh. She had lent herself 
wholly to her changeful impressions, and sore and fierce 
were the alternations of feeling that rent her soul. One 
moment she was lifted to giddy exaltation by fast-growing 
hope, and the next plunged to deepest despair. With the 
exacting spirit of a confessed passion she demanded why 
he did not come, and then in her self-abasement thought he 
had forgotten her or that he nourished resentment and 
with excusable pride declined to come. Strive as she 
might she could not sufficiently calm herself to see mat- 
ters in their just relation. It was enough that she had 
beheld her old friend, and that after one whole day they 
were still apart; apart when not an ocean but a few miles 
only separated them. 

37 


57 ^ 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


She forgot that Halvor could have no share in such feel- 
ings; that at best he could give her little thought of any 
kind, that he had years before parted from her on another 
continent and that with no idea of her being out of Sweden 
he had probably not known or even seen her. 

“Not seen her!” As if sight were needed between 
lovers with true hearts. But was Halvor her lover, how- 
ever true his heart? Alas, in her soul craving she had lost 
her bearings. With all her apprehensions touching the 
fate of her friend, her darkest dreams, her saddest forebod- 
ings had never brought such sinking of the heart as the 
possibility of there being no instant and mutual recogni- 
tion — no rushing together with uncontrollable joy should 
kind fortune or truer guidance ever bring them within pos- 
sible reach of each other. Then her assumption met self- 
reproof, and once more the memory of their separation 
came home to her. Yes, she had long ago rejected and 
banished him, and now she had no other claim to his re- 
gard than that of any old acquaintance; possibly not that in 
view of her treatment of him. Had she then, been un- 
kind ? Was not anything unkind short of what he asked 
and freely gave ? 

And then that handsome lady ! Who was this favored 
one who with all her anxious concern looked so happy ? 
In what attitude stood her old lover to a creature so lovely, 
one so tenderly in need of the protection he gave with as- 
siduous gallantry ? Was she sure it was not jealousy of 
that lady — that it was not her own selfish craving, her 
envy of a chosen rival that aggravated her self-torment ? 
No, no, thank God ! not that at least. If she knew any- 
thing of her own heart she was sure that Halvor’s happi- 
ness was its first wish. Now more than ever that was his 
due if only as a solace for the misfortunes, the cruel 
wrongs he must have suffered; and whether he should 
smile or frown upon her — whether joined with her or with 
another she would fervently strive and pray for his eternal 
happiness. 

But Oh ! was there no speedy way to serve one who 
had given her so much — no way to crave his par- 
don and resume the dear old friendship ? She so 
longed to show her devotion, to learn the story of his 
long absence, to solace him with her sympathy, to be an 
untiring help and a true, strong friend to him with utter 
singleness of purpose. If this could not be, then, O ! 
could they but meet simply as acquaintances ! she did so 
yearn to share at least with others the pleasure of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


579 


welcoming the lost one back to life and friends. Ebba had 
shared little in the Indian alarm, but among the fears she 
now readil}^ conjured was that Halvor might have fallen a 
victim to the savages, and was thus prevented from com- 
ing to her. 

As she thus wavered between extremes of feeling, 
the poor girl continued more and more the sport of 
the brightest fancies and the idlest fears. Sometimes in 
the fervor of her self-denial she would feel that she had a 
heart for any fate and dared it to a trial: then would come 
the crushing thought that the olden friendship was gone 
forever, and this deepened to sickening gloom as she 
remembered that .she had cast from her what he had 
ardently offered. Then with a lifting moment of sweetest 
hope all aglow with the thought of Halvor as her own, the 
torturing conviction would follow that this could never be, 
and she was bowed low with what seemed a growing 
certainty that they could never again be even what 
they had been to each other, and that their meeting, 
if ever they met, could hardly be upon so good a footing 
as that upon which they parted — a footing of doubtful and 
disturbing attitude which had been of her own choosing. 

Then her thoughts recurred to the beautiful lady. 
As before intimated, Ebba had not recognized Deborah 
Wayne at Chester. The Quakeress had become affianced 
to Rupert Fairfield; and in her gayer dress and happier 
face, its color then heightened by the prevailing alarm, 
Ebba in her hurried glance had seen only the lady of her 
dream. She had since been haunted by the lovely vision, 
and she queried whether this lady could be Halvor’ s 
betrothed. Perhaps she was his wife. Or had he 
learned to scorn and renounce all women ? She remem- 
bered the set, stern expression and deep lines of his pale 
weary face; he had doubtless been sadly buffeted by the 
world and may have been hardened by its trials. And 
should she weakly encourage the delusive hope that in 
this one instance only, time and trouble would be cheated 
of their inevitable work — that they would not make havoc 
of a rejected lover who had become a man of the world 
with a heart dead to the past and living in the present ? 
Would such a man be likely to cling to an unrequited love 
which was barren in the beginning and after bitter fruition 
had died in lonely starvation ? 

Of this self-torture Ebba at last grew weary. Her 
thoughts were her persecutors, and the privacy she had 
craved as a boon she began to mourn as a burden. Two 


580 


Ebb a Borjeson, 


full days had not elapsed since she saw Halvor Mondahl^ 
yet the moments had so lengthened into hours and the 
hours into days, that she seemed to have lived an endless- 
probation in the weary interval. She began to feel lonely. 
She longed for the humble companions she had lately 
shunned. The simplest kinship had a new vajue in her 
eyes. Yet as there was no one in whom she could con- 
fide, it was a loneliness for her amid the merriest com- 
pany. To whom indeed comes loneliness so utter or com- 
pany so sufficing as to the sole possessor of one weighty 
secret whether sad or joyful? 

And thus it was that Ebba Borjeson felt herself isolated 
from cherished persons and things. All her surroundings 
seemed less friendly; neither Zelle nor old Shaggy had 
come under her window for a morning greeting, and even. 
Uncle Gabe had deserted her. For he had not been to their 
house since the morning he took her to Chester. In her 
morbid fancy, indeed, auntSignild and the children seemed 
less cordial in their greetings, and when she opened her 
chamber window the big sunflowers in the garden seemed 
to bow to her with more stately coldness. From that one 
window of her lonely chamber she had gazed much of 
late; from it she had observed frequent boating trips from 
the island over the tidal bay toward Okowela’s wigwam, 
and the young chief’s return visits to the island. She 
imagined there was some unusual stir and it made her feel 
lonelier to have no part in it. 

So when Ebba felt her growing burdens to be more than 
she could bear and she the next day saw Uncle Gabe and 
his boy rowing past up the Christina, she ran hastily from 
the house with the desperate determination of intercepting 
him. Beyond this her purpose was vague; but it embraced 
the special wish to speak to an old and dear friend and the 
general hope of learning something in some way of the 
person whose sudden appearance had so engrossed her heart. 
In her haste as she ran, numberless golden-rods, purple 
asters and blue-fringed gentians rose with a look of re- 
proof from her trampling feet, but she could heed nothing 
in the intensity of her purpose. Ascending the shoreward 
mound of the old fort ruins Ebba hailed the boat in a 
breathless voice of illy-suppressed eagerness. 

“ Yaw, I gome den, of ye vas zo mad mit haste,” and 
then as the Dutchman’s yawl touched the natural rock 
wharf his good open face and apologetic voice equally an- 
swered Ebba’s chiding query. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 581 

“ Veil, Onkel Cabe vas sorry; but he no could gome pe- 
cause he haf a batient.” 

“ A patient?” and Ebba’s heart thumped audibly. 

‘‘Yaw ; a zick man I brought down from Chester. He 
was der stranger ve oferhauled in der barge from New 
Castle. He vas slave to Rupe’s onkel in Virginia und got 
^ick goming from dere vhen he had to svim rifers, wade 
trough svamps and — but mein schild ! vhy, ye look zick 
youself. ’ ’ 

” Nay, ’tis nothing; I’m a little dizzy from sleeplessness; 
pray go on.” 

‘‘But mein tender girl, of ye veel zo much for a 
shtranger — for a man ye nefer — ” he ceased, for Ebba ex- 
hibited a quivering struggle for self-control which puzzled 
■and alarmed him. From his first utterance of the word 
‘‘patient,” indeed, her subtle apprehension had divined 
the truth, and her face, flushed and pale by turns, looked 
both her dread of and eager wish for, further particulars. 
Yielding to her gesticulating entreaty, he resumed : 

‘‘ Vhen ve all vent oudt to fight mit der no-fightin’ red 
men, der stranger vas den too weak und ill to go mit us; 
hnt go he vould\ ior YQ. 2\\ beliefedt der Injuns vould kill 
us and zo efen der sick und der gripples must gif all help; 
but from der long marsch und furious night storm der 
stranger get shust so tired und vet und zick dot he no 
could valk more, und vhen ve met der returnin’ Quagers 
our good friendt Busey shust took him up on der horse- 
back to ridte mit him.” 

‘‘ Bless his Quaker soul ! I could e’en — but was he so 
ill, then?” 

” Yaw, he go so more as ill all der vhile dot he no more 
ridte, as he faint in Friendt Pusey’s arms on horseback ; 
und den ve madte a handt-litter ov bushes und carriedt 
him to Chester vhere Seb vas vaiting mit der Sea Gull, 
und I yinst fetch him home.” 

” O, you best of m — and is he then very, very ill?” 

‘‘ Nay, he vas zoon bretty quicg much better, metinks. 
But vhat asses ve all madte mit ourselfs apout der cruel 
madness ov dose mild savages. Our friendt Busey vas 
much viser in his trust ov dem. Dere vas alvays trust in 
visdom und more visdom in trust : und I nefer pefore saw 
fier whole force of faith as vhen faith rests on force of 
Truth. Ve all knew our Galeb vas a good man, but me- 
tought mebpe his goodness vas more gentle as strong ; but 
now mit his forceful faith und his peaceful push in face of 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


582 

zupposed death ve know he vas shust so much a down- 
right man as a upright man.” 

“And you think that Hal — that the stranger is not in 
danger of — ” 

” Nay, he got soon veil again ; Okovela bring him In- 
dian hemp, und der soothing tisan with vater from his 
magic spring ; und I am on mein vay for frosh May-veed 
und bone-set.” 

”0, you big-hearted — O, I must, I will — ” and Ebba 
gave a forward thrust of her face as if to kiss Uncle Gabe. 
He did not observe her movement until he had pushed out 
from the rock : but his ready wit did not desert him and, 
swinging back the yawl, he muttered as an excuse for 
leaping ashore — 

” Oh, ye regollect some sjokes on friendt Pusey ? Veil, 
I—” 

‘‘And this.” interposed Ebba, pressing her lips on his 
cheek, “ is the joke on good Uncle Gabe.” 

‘‘ Nay, dot vas der Fadir’s own blessing, vhich vas der 
sjoke und crown ov all. Mein Gott ! be I on earth or in 
heafen ? Seb, Seb, saw or heard ye anytings?” and as the 
entranced skipper sprang back to his boat he took off his 
hat, and gazing skyward, continued, ‘‘vas I here or here- 
after — zail ve on der Christine or in der skies ? Vhichefer 
it vas pull ye altogeder : row ! row ! row ! mine boy : row 
mit joy efermore, for vheder on waters ov earth or in 
realms of der blest dere vas angels eferyvhere.” 


CHAPTER LXXXII. 

Lingering a moment Ebba gazed vacantly after the fast- 
receding yawl, and then walked slowly to the house. It is 
needless to say her heart was full. For a time she was 
stunned : but later as she realized the added cause for 
trouble she felt her late inward tumult yield to returning 
calm. For vague apprehension and nameless dread had 
given place to definable perils. Involuntarily she glanced 
across to the lonely island cabin ; she thought of its 
stricken inmate ; and when she recalled her late repinings, 
her moody and impatient questionings of her old friend 
her heart smote her ; then as all her impressions became 
absorbed in the one haunting thought that after unknown 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


583 


trials and sufferings Halvor lay there helpless, perhaps sick 
unto death, she felt herself tenderly humbled with her 
faithless shame and self-rebuke. 

Dame Signild was glad to notice the marked change 
from Ebba’s late distracted manner, and the children 
scampered in gleeful triumph that they could attract her 
gentle attention even if they couldn’t arouse the childish 
buoyancy they sought. Soon Ebba found herself watch- 
ing the sun and eagerly looking for the return of the boat- 
men with the needed herbs. They seemed long absent, 
and as her impatience returned she counted the tardy min- 
utes until, with the darkness and quiet of early evening, 
she heard the hurried stroke of oars and faintly saw the 
returning boat glide toward the island. 

Weary with long excitement and loss of sleep Ebba went 
to her room. For a time she sat at her window watching 
the lonely light glimmer from the sick room on the island. 
Then swiftly disrobing she sprang into her bed and fell into 
a sound slumber. She awoke at midnight; and soon busy 
thought banished all chance of further sleep. Again her 
restive spirit asserted itself. She longed for a single glance 
at the sick man; she began to feel jealous of those who 
were waiting upon him; she regretted that she had not 
claimed at least a share in serving the patient; and so after 
long tormenting herself with foreboding ill she crowded all 
possible woes into the crowning affliction that she might 
be forgotten or lost to the banished Halvor as the friend 
of his youthful manhood. 

With this thought Ebba leaped from her bed. The dear 
old days might, indeed, be sad enough for him; but the 
thought that she could neither solace him for the past nor 
aid him in the present was insupportable; it was worse 
than never to have seen him again. Stepping to her win- 
dow she saw that the first gray tinge of dawn was outlin- 
ing the eastern tree-tops; and still the one feeble light 
flickered from the lone island cabin. As she gazed the 
grey sky warmed and presently she saw a dark object 
move from the island and come toward her. Straining her 
eager sight she faintly discerned an approaching boat, and 
stealing softly from her room she ran to meet it. Sebas- 
tian Cabot was rowing the lightest skiff with the utmost 
haste to the nearest landing place. He bore a request 
from Uncle Gabe that Ebba would come at once to the 
island. The young lady flew back to the house, and 
speedily returning with articles of clothing and comforts 
for* the sick room, took her seat in the skiff. There was a 


5^4 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


quiet celerit}’’ in her movements. She asked no questions; 
she seemed to take all things as duly expected and 
assumed to know what had happened and what was 
needed. 

For at last racking disquietude fled before the womanly 
intuition and helpful calm which rarely failed Ebba in 
great enjergencies. She almost divined the situation as 
she instinctively saw its requirements. The patient, while 
appearing to improve for a time, had grown suddenly 
worse in the night and was tossing and raving with wild 
burning fever. Uncle Gabe, while trying to afford relief and 
comfort, had been startled to hear Ebba’s name uttered by 
the stranger in his delirium. At first he thought he must 
be mistaken in so improbable a circumstance, but in 
another instant the name was distinctly repeated, coupled 
with broken sentences in a tone of supplication. What- 
ever his reluctance the kindly man could not help recall- 
ing Ebba’s curious persistency and agitation in her en- 
queues of the stranger, nor avoid drawing inferences from 
the coupled occurrences. What these were be3^ond the 
former acquaintanceship of the two Uncle Gabe scarcely 
allowed himself to surmise. But with the delicacy of a 
loyal soul the host felt that it would be dishonor- 
able to receive from even a frenzied source disclosures not 
intended for his ear; and accordingly he promptly sent for 
Ebba as the only suitable person to attend upon the patient 
at that stage of his malady. 

Answering a gentle tap at the door the waiting host 
quietly admitted the expected lady while he passed out of 
the sick-room; In confronting each other as they thus 
changed places there was an exchange of speaking glances 
without a spoken word. A tremulous calm sat upon Eb- 
ba’s pale features as she turned her gaze upon the stranger. 
Fearful was the change even since her' hasty glance at his 
changed face at Chester. He was now quieting a little 
from a fierce paroxysm of the disease, and his heightened 
color and feverish distortions were gradually giving place 
to a deathly pallor and the ghastly compressions and hol- 
low eyes of direst sufferers. His wasted figure and hag- 
gard countenance would have defied recognition from any 
former acquaintances of young Halvor Mondahl with le.ss 
divining perceptions than those of the faithful girl whom 
strange fortune had brought to his bedside. 

Seating herself by her patient, Ebba kept her eyes 
steadily fixed upon his features. As they grew composed 
the facial lines deepened, the wan cheeks sank in pitiful 


Ebb a Borjeso7i. 


585 


hollows and the glassy eyes rolled in staring vacancy. The 
watcher started at the appalling semblance of hastening 
death. But it was not wholly new to her, and not even the 
clammy rigidity of the cold brow when she pressed her 
hand upon it unduly quickened her alarm. For by adjust- 
ing his uneasy position the patient’s eyes closed, his 
breathing was more regular and he sank into what seemed 
a helpful slumber. 

Tong he continued thus quiet with alternations of half- 
conscious stupor and fretful mutterings, and then a sudden 
motion and flitting shade of color indicated a return of 
fever. Again came the flushed wildness and facial writh- 
ings with increased restiveness. Starting up with a shriek 
the patient threw off the bed covering and thrust his hands 
through his hair as he glared fiercely around him. Then 
he dropped upon his face and uttered incoherent moan- 
ings. Ebba cooled his hot brow and by a persuasive mo- 
tion brought him to an easier position. For some moments 
he lay comparatively still with occasional spasms of forced 
breathing. Then after some unintellible words came the 
distinct utterance, “a last word, O Ebba, see, see, Druid 
Jarl e’en stretches forth his pleading arms — ” The listener 
held her breath as the words ceased, and in the brief 
pause her pulsations seemed to resound through the room. 
For a time the sick man seemed to catch his breath with 
painful difficulty. Then again he breathed more freel}' 
and the trembling auditor bowed her head in grateful emo- 
tion. Presently she heard in a still sinking voice, “they — 
the)" took me captive at night — they sent me over the wide 
ocean — yes, they — they sold me in bondage — ’twas lone — 
lonely— ah, so lo — ” 

The words died away to indistinctness and finally ceased. 
The sufferer grew gradually quieter, and for a long time 
he seemed to be calmly sleeping. As he moved his posi- 
tion Ebba saw a more rational appearance in his counten- 
ance and presently his features settled into an expression 
of restful peace. But it was the peace of utter exhaustion. 
With the slightest recovery of strength, he apparently at- 
tempted resumption of speech; and soon his feeble efforts 
developed into gentle murmurs of words whose meaning or 
connection could not be caught. 

For some hours the sufferer had remained thus hovering 
between natural slumber and dreamy half-consciousness, 
and his attempted utterances had entirely ceased, when 
suddenly Ebba was startled with the sound of her name. 
With less delirium the patient exhibited less force but 


586 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


more clearness of voice and with quickened throbs the 
breathlevSS girl heard the patient say — 

“ But Ebba was right — true love is indeed its own re- 
quital. O, I kiiow it now — know it through trial and suf- 
fering — for — for — amid the loneliness of a captive’s lot a — 
a beautiful tempter offered Halvor love and liberty — love 
with license or without — but — but — I loved Ebba — loved 
her then, and — and love her now — and though — though, 
she never loved me, I — I shall love, ah, love — love her 
forev — ” 

Ebba felt a choking at her throat; her heart stood 
still and she reeled to her feet with a guilty sense of hav- 
ing unwarrantably caught the sweet confession from the 
poor fellow in his frenzied prostration. But the delicious 
secret was rather enhanced than impaired by its illicit 
birth; for it thus appealed with the more sacred delicacy 
to her sense of coupled love and honor. And as she fixed 
her swimming eyes upon the helpless friend whose love 
seemed an eternity of steadfastness, her soul yearned 
toward him with unspeakable tenderness. 

After another pause, during which his wandering 
thoughts seemed vainly seeking utterance, the sick man 
gave some indications of returning rationality, and it was 
in a quieter, but wasted voice of inexpressible sadness that 
he presently said: 

“ I had hoped to see her before I die; I hoped to earn 
enough money to go back to old Sweden — I — I longed to 
— to look into her dear face once more — but — but God’s 
will be d — hark ! Did I hear her parting call from the 
shade of Druid Jarl ? Alas, I — ” 

Ebba could hear no more; her full heart was ready to 
burst; and, springing to her feet, her confessing cheeks 
crimsoned with crowding emotions, she paced the floor in 
a vigorous effort for self-control. In another moment she 
noticed further signs that the patient was coming to him- 
self, and,, fearing the hurtful effect of his sudden recog- 
nition of her, she hastily left the room. As Uncle Gabe 
entered to take her place he was just in time to hear the 
sufferer enquire in a natural voice as he opened his won- 
dering eyes: 

“Was it but a dream, then? Methought she came. 
Alas, ’twas too sweet to be true. ’Twas an angel, then, 
that hovered near.’’ 

“Yaw, yaw, ’twas a angel vas shust now here; und — 
und — ’’ he was observing the grief-stricken face, “und 
vill gome pack, metinks, bretty quig a’readty,’’ with 


Ebba Borjeson. 587 

which confident observation the host hastened back to the 
door and called: 

“Miss Kbba, gome quig ! Der disabpointment vas 
vorse as der disclosure. ’Tvas your time und blace, not 
mine. Go right avay in to dot zick man now, mein 
schild.” 

A tremulous glow lighted Ebba’s pale features as she 
silently obeyed. Gliding to the patient’s bedside the two 
exchanged a moment’s gaze of quivering wonder, and 
then with a mutual extension of their arms were closely 
locked in each other’s embrace. The sight and sympathy 
were too much even for a non-observer, and the big- 
hearted islander, giving reins to his warm imagination in 
an adjoining apartment, shook the little cabin with the 
fervor of his emotions 

But trouble was not over. In the vicissitudes of life 
and nature the brighter the light the deeper the shadow. 
And now it was the veritable shadow of death that dark- 
ened the brightening pathway of Ebba Borjeson. The 
wasting fever and racking alternations of the malignant 
disease brought Halvor Mondahl’s life to its lowest ebb. 
After the aggressive virulence of the malady spent itself 
there seemed too little latent vitality left to build upon. 
Day after day and week after week the patient grew worse. 
In vain were the various remedies known to the oldest set- 
tlers resorted to. In vain were tried the pure and plentiful 
waters daily brought by Okowela from his magic spring. 
The curative Indian herbs; the time-honored remedies so 
much and long relied upon by generations of red men 
were successively applied, and even the soceries of Dame 
Thekla upon the urgent appeal of aunt Signild were re- 
sorted to as a forlorn hope. 

All in vain. For five weeks the patient grew constantly 
weaker until he faintly hovered above the fading line be- 
tween life and death. Hope had been gradually yielding 
to despair. Uncle Gabe was impelled to shake his head 
in sorest apprehension, old witch Thekla scowled her 
brows and crossed the air with ominous signs of woful im- 
port, and with all there was fast-fading hope of aught but 
speedy death — with all but Ebba : and with her it seemed 
less hope than faith. From the first she had never wav- 
ered in a trust which brought a strange helpful calm to her 
aid. From time to time, as one after another gave up, she 
opened her wondering eyes at their sorry heresy, and as 
the darkening hour surely approached, as others thought. 


.'588 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


there was a serenit}^ of firmness in her clear eyes, which 
denied the possibility of other than a happy end. 

But with all the unfaltering faith of the brave girl, 
which in her every act and look seemed to say ‘ ‘ of course 
he will live,” there seemed the daily growing certainty 
that the sufferer would die. The result of every turn and 
test of his condition argued a fatal result. Beyond a little 
weak gruel, which he could rarely retain in his stomach, 
the patient had taken no nourishment for weeks ; he was 
reduced to a skeleton. Still Ebba hoped. Nor was hers 
a blind or baseless hope, paralyzing human effort ; for as a 
last resort Uncle Gabe, with an appealing hint from her, 
had sailed to Philadelphia for an apothecary who had 
lately begun practice in the Quaker Town. 

Meanwhile the sinking patient had become wholly uncon- 
scious and the neighbors were gathered about in momen- 
tary expectation of the end, while Ebba with ever-insistent 
faith kept longing looks up the river. A sudden exclama- 
tion from her drew all eyes toward an approaching sail. It 
was the Sea Gull hastening with the physician. In a few 
moments he was by the bed-side of the dying man. There 
was a death-like silence as all eyes were turned upon the 
medical man. He sadly shook his head. The sick man 
was too low even for recourse to the barbarous bleeding 
then universally practiced. There was an exchange of 
significant glances among the sadly waiting on-lookers, 
and their tension of feeling found sad release iii a last 
common sigh of resignation. Still Ebba kept her faith — 
kept it with such fervent consecration as gave her lifting 
hope ; yet hope shown less in eager assertion than in the 
hushed calm of utter trust. As the dread hour drew near 
the light of a deeper awe .settled in her face and as she 
felt her trial too sacred for even the pitying eyes of friends, 
she quietly stole from the room. And now new wonder 
stared from face to face that with every cause, appearance 
and promise of death the sick man yet lived. With the 
dogged toughness of his ancestral fibre he held his life- 
grasp with ever-lingering tenacity. 

A few moments of silence followed — silence so utter and 
solemn that the breathing of all was audible save that of 
the fast-sinking patient. The apothecary was about to 
apply the last test of lingering life when he was checked 
by a voice from the adjoining room. The intent listeners 
caught pleading words to a gracious Intercessor, and then 
they were awed in deeper silence as in a soft low tremor 
Ebba’s voice continued in prayer: ” Almighty God of jus- 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


5 % 


tice who seest into our hearts ! O thou Father of 
mightier Love and Mercy, whether it be thy will that 
this bitter cup or this dear life shall pass, thy will be — ” 

“Hist, he lives!’’ cried several watchers in a breath. 

And he did live; with a feeble twitching of the face 
the dying man opened his eyes and gazed about with a 
vacant mild stare; his fitful breath came steadier, and 
with it came the suspended breath of the on-lookers, who 
felt themselves released from the riveting spell as from 
that of a blissfully solemn miracle. 


CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

A fortnight later dame Signild’s cottage was the scene of 
an unwonted stir. Some visitors had arrived; others were 
expected; “the father” had returned from his mysterious 
calling on the coast; the children were happy in their best 
dresses and brightest faces, and a bountiful dinner pre- 
pared with her best skill as the crowning pride of the hos- 
tess was steaming with savory scents in readiness for a 
few favored guests. 

The whole purpose of the assemblage was perhaps not 
fully defined or confessed, but the special occasion was a 
sort of rustic reception or celebration contrived by the hos- 
tess and her grand-niece in honor of Rupert Fairfield and 
Deborah Wayne, who had just been married by Friend’s 
ceremony in Philadelphia and were soon to depart for Vir- 
ginia. 

It was the end of October. For weeks the forest foliage 
had been daily intensifying its gorgeous colors. In places 
on the Brandywdne hills and river levels, the woods were 
yet ablaze with gaudy hues. But waning autumn at last 
began to disclose rents in her brilliant attire. Falling 
leaves quivered in the hazy light as they carpeted the 
grassy slopes or with noiseless touch floated away like 
taery craft on the river’s blue current. A mellow lustre 
swathed the landscape in a tone of tender melancholy 
which was less a sadness of the old than a promise of the 
new life. So at least it seemed to a happy couple who oc- 
cupied the rustic seat in Ebba’s favorite retreat in the 
Walnut Grove. For them the picture had more than a 
golden glow or a dreamy bliss; for their hearts were filled 


590 Ebb a Borjeson. 

with a love through which the autumnal beauty gleamed 
with a glorified light. 

After Halvor Mondahl made his happy turn from im- 
pending. death to rescued life his speedy recovery was as- 
sured by the sound elasticity of his constitution and the 
wholesome vigor of his temperament. The soulful con- 
fession which had escaped him in his delirium he more 
than ratified in his gladdened sanity. More than that, the 
pent-up fervor of a long-tried love was poured forth to 
its recovered object in all the generous measure of his 
manly nature. In the same crisis of his fate he had found 
the love and made the escape of his life; for both he had 
proved his fitness by such travail as few withstand. He 
felt himself saved and rewarded as by a miracle, and there 
was a touch of awe in his radiant happiness. 

And what did not his grateful devotion find in the rare 
depths of Ebba’s responsive soul ? If it was not worn on 
the surface, if her new gladness was too full and sacred 
for paraded effervescence, it was guessed in the pensive 
depth of her glance, and could have been divined in her 
repressed exuberance, in the tremor of her sweet coyness 
and in all the nameless tokens of an unspeakable joy. 

And if there was not in this blessed reunion the giddy 
exaltation of love’s young dream, nor the blind delirium 
and worse distemper too often its unhappy realization, 
there was the chaster bliss, the sweeter trust of a long 
tested love, a love tempered and triumphant through suf- 
fering and sorrow, with an earned, not an accidental frui- 
tion. 

In the Walnut Grove sat these lovers in blissful reverie. 
It was where plenteous graves now crowd the enclosed 
yard of the Old Swedes’ Church. Then a few graves of 
their emigrant countrymen were scattered about, and all 
around were thickening tokens of nature’s decay. It was 
the ripeness of the season and the hastening fall of the 
year, but it was spring in the lovers’ hearts. The golden 
sun streamed through the naked limbs of the early shorn 
walnuts; it brightened the full-leaved oaks in their sober 
maroon, and when it shimmered through the red maples 
and the yellow leaves of the hickory, then known as nut- 
wood, the commingled mass in its shining descent seemed 
a very shower of gold. But in the lovers’ hearts was the 
richer gold which attuned their thoughts to new hope and 
filled them with a faith which engulfed the sense of decay 
in the fuller promise of growth. 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


591 


Blissfull}^ flew the moments, when, above the nearest 
fastland shore, the lovers caught sight of a small sail com- 
ing down the river. Then they slowly wended their way 
to the house; for the approaching boat the}^ knew was 
bringing the bride and groom as the last of the expected 
guests. That Halvor and Ebba were a handsome pair as 
they moved on with quiet grace was apparent to the most 
casual observer. Though the tall strong form of the late 
invalid was yet thin,- his step was elastic with hope and 
his bright eyes and glowing cheeks had the beauty of fast 
returning health. Ebba, as usual, indulged her taste for 
a dress of soft gray tone, in which her lithe figure ap- 
peared to graceful advantage; and although her features 
were not answerable to strictly classical models there was 
ever in her whole presence and now in special degree that 
unmistakable mien which marks latent force of character 
and nobility of soul. 

As they neared the house they met “The Father,’’ 
whom Halvor had not yet seen. When Ebba introduced 
the two men the former started and dropped his eyes. 
Then with an agitated manner and wondering gaze, waver- 
ing uneasily between averted looks and furtive glances, 
the man stammered out some disjointed words, and as the 
lovers passed into the house Ebba overheard from him the 
muttered exclamation, “God help me! can he be the 
same ? ’’ 

Caleb Pusey, with his wife and baby daughter, had ar- 
rived in the early morning ; and while the former occu- 
pied himself in glancing through some dingy volumes of 
theology, the hostess plied dame Pusey with sundry 
themes touching bread-making, egg laying, children’s dis- 
eases, garden products and other domestic topics. But 
dame Signild’s tongue and fingers invariably grew busy in 
steady co-operation; and as the latter quickened with suc- 
cessive achievements her tongue itched for more ambitious 
talk. Amid such interwoven work and speech she had 
cast longing glances at the male visitor as he turned the 
yellowed leaves, and more than once she had shrewdly 
tried to draw him into discussion, which the Quaker had 
playfully evaded. But at length the impulse getting con- 
trol, she blurted out : 

“ I don’t know how you Quakers can find the narrow 
way gropin’ after the flickerin’ shadow o’ what ye call the 
inward light. Why, bless ye, we Eutherans must have 
plain words in black and white; and e’en when these 
be backed up with the catechism and the liturgy and 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


592 

rubbed in with the povverfiillest preachin’, it’s all a body 
can do to keep from wanderin’ astra3^” 

“ Perchance so much labor is the cause of the difficulty. 
To talk less and hearken more, methinks might bring us 
all surer guidance. Our own clatter drowneth the still 
voice.” 

” Our own clatter ma^ffiap. But the Holy Scriptures 
and naught else be the word of God; and how know we 
that but by expositions and teachings of them as studies 
’em?” 

“The written word is well; the inward voice is better. 
The one comes through the interpretation of man; the 
other direct from the Father.” 

“That sounds very well; but it’s nothing but sound 
if there be no savin’ doctrine back of it; and the heresy 
is all the more dangerous when preached by such good 
people.” 

“Nay, nay, good Aunty,” interposed Ebba, that 
moment entering the room. “Is it playing the gracious 
hostess to thus belabor a guest for opinion’s sake?” 

“ Oh, abate naught on that score,” said the guest; “ to 
seek truth' is scarce amiss at any time or place.” 

“ Well then,” said Ebba with bantering ga^^ety, ” since 
the offence is committed I will share its shame and 
game by hurling a lance of my own at Quakerism.” 

“ Quakerism awaits its fate,” said Caleb in merry depre- 
cation; “ sa3^ on, my young vanquisher.” 

“ Nay, humble champion rather; for in most respects I 
do love its teachings and teachers; but methinks in its too 
bald simpliciW it neglects Beauty as a gracious gift of God, 
and in its severe self-repression rejects innocent decoration, 
music and gladness as worshipping agencies.” 

‘ ‘ There is force in what thee says. No doubt that when 
these things were prostituted to only the most depraved 
purposes, early Friends naturally mistook the abuse for the 
use of them; and yet, at the best, beauty of form and sound 
is less than beaut>^ of the spirit. In its highest sense 
beauty is truth and truth beauty. In seeking that do we 
not include finite in infinite beauty ?” 

‘ ‘ But why omit the low^er forms if only as a means to 
the higher ?” 

“ ’Tis well queried; and I fear indeed that Friends may 
be in error in rejecting the perishable adornment of their 
homes and persons; but they see more the greater danger 
of substituting form for spirit. For in our finite life visible 
things are but the temporal husks of the invisible 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


593 


essence — only the unstable shadows of the unseen verities, 
which externals may be a help or a hindrance to the spirit 
even as aidful scaffolding to the permanent edifice may be- 
come an earthly prison house. But see ! Rupert and De- 
borah yonder come.” 

“ O, let us to the landing for first greetings,” with which 
joyous cry Ebba bounded away, followed by Halvor, and, 
with the .children and younger guests, hastened down to 
the rocky mooring at the fort ruins. In a few moments they 
returned in irregular but triumphal procession, escorting 
the newly married pair, who attracted so much attention 
that Uncle Gabe and Okowela were not seen approaching 
from the Black Cat in the opposite direction. 

When all had assembled, and Ebba in due time ad- 
vanced to the bride and groom with Halvor Mondahl, 
whom she presented as her long-lost and newly-found 
friend, Rupert caught his breath with a start. “What, 
Bob !” he cried, glaring from one to the other in choking 
amazement. 

” Merciful God !” he resumed, ” what means all this ? 
Wonder of wonders, nay, villainy of villainies ! Can it 
indeed be true that this innocent man — that Miss Borjeson’s 
old friend, so tried and true, is the man my Uncle Dick 
kept five years in slavery ? In sooth this is a monstrous 
revelation — a revelation of infamy.” 

” And since revelations of infamy be begun,” exclaimed 
” the father,” who had stood apart in quaking apprehen- 
sion, ” be mine now the confession which I make in deepest 
and direst shame, that I lent myself in an evil hour to the 
wicked plot of Bengt Ericsson, who kidnapped this man in 
London and shipped him to me ; whereupon, in base con- 
spiracy with Job Blinckenheim here in New Castle, I re- 
ceived the captive and sold him in chains to Mr. Richard 
Kingsbury in Virginia.” 

“You?” screamed Ebba. “You! the father of these 
innocent children — you had the heart to do this deed ! O, 
thou Heavenly Father of jmstice and mercy!” and with an 
upturned face of tremulous pallor the tender girl of heroic 
soul stood a dizzy instant, and then sinking to a seat, bur- 
ied her face in her hands. 

‘‘A free-born Swede made a chattel!” shrieked dame 
Signild, who, with distorted features had been pointing her 
skinny finger at the culprit while vainly seeking coherent 
speech ; ‘ ‘ a true son of Sweden sold as a captive slave ! 
and by the head of this family !” and the old dame, 
drawing her lean figure to trembling erectness, shook her 

38 


594 


Ebba Borjeson. 


fist at the culprit as she hissed out her curse, “ the ven- 
geance of Heaven be upon — ” 

“ Nay,” interposed Friend Pusey, ” ‘vengeance is mine, 
saith the Lord,’ and even He hath enjoined curative love, 
not hate in the Christian dispensation of our times. Do no 
further wrong I entreat, but humbly await His bidding.” 

A moment of quivering silence ensued, during which the 
actors in the scene — the shamed culprit hanging his- head 
before the fiercely rebuking hostess, the expostulating 
Quaker, the intently gazing Rupert and the wondering 
spectators grouped about the calml}^ faced victim and his 
tender companion bowed low in hushed emotion — alto- 
gether comprised a striking picture suitable for a painter’s 
brush. The silence was broken by the hostess, who, with 
still trembling gestures, resumed : 

‘‘Oft have we wondered and sometimes with .strange 
dread concerning tne mysteries o’ your coastwise doin’ s, 
but ne’er feared we they could come to sich crimes as man- 
stealing.” 

‘‘For that act,” said the offender in a low faltering 
voice, ‘‘I had no excuse and crave no mercy. But al- 
though I may have thought it little wrong to smuggle 
goods to our colonists’ advantage, to evade the Duke of 
York’s unjust exactions, God is my witness that this one 
base act was the first and last offence of the kind of which 
I e’er was guilty.” 

‘‘’Tis surely a relief to hear it,” said more than one 
of the party. 

‘‘ And if there be aught in ceaseless penitence; if there 
be expiation in sleepless nights and bitter tears, God 
knows what I have suffered for this one crime, as He only 
can judge how sincerely I have sought from him the par- 
don I cannot ask of the innocent sufferer.” 

“The sufferer offers the pardon unasked,” said Halvor, 
and the two men clasped hands with brimming eyes. 
Nor were tears absent from many eyes when Friend Pusey 
in tender tones presently added; 

“ And as our Father above, who forgiveth us all, ever 
overruleth evil for good, even so be our trust that all 
things in this sad business shall end for the best to His 
glory and our lasting good.” 

“God grant it,” said Rupert Fairfield, “for there are 
other actors in it who need forgiveness.” 

“ Who vill receive it,” said Uncle Gabe, “ und amen 
say ve all.” 


Ebb a Borjeson. 


595 


At once the painful tension began to relax; silent 
tongues resumed speech, kindly words multiplied,- and 
when the company presently stood with joined hands 
round^ the generous board in observance of the beautiful 
Swedish custom of silent grace, gladdened talk mingled 
thickly in the generous repast, in both of which all 
indulged with glowing faces and thankful hearts. 


A few words more will end the narrator’s pleasant 
tabk. 

Rupert Fairfield, in the ardor of his OvSpousal, embraced 
the religious faith of his bride, and the couple became the 
nucleus of a flourishing Quaker settlement at their 
Virginia home. 

Halvor Mondahl, by reason of educational fitness 
and force of character, at once took a prominent part 
in the religious and secular affairs of Christine settlement. 
He acted as lay-reader of prayers and psalms and upon the 
death of pastor Fabricius zealously aided to maintain pub- 
lic worship in Cranehook church by reading homilies and 
sermons to its continuing attendants. He was instrumental 
in re-awakening that home interest in their affairs which 
resulted in the coming over of three clergymen from 
Old Sweden to look to their spiritual needs. With one of 
these. Rev. Eric Bjork, he took active steps for the build- 
ing of the present “ Old Swedes’ Church,” in aid of which 
men lent their competitive zeal and housewives and 
maidens are said to have carried the mason’s mortar 
in their aprons. In due time Halvor and Ebba were 
married, their children were christened in the new stone 
edifice, and their happy union has found extended fruition 
in a long line of worthy descendants who share in the 
active life of to-day. 

Gabriel Van Onkelbach continued his boating occupa- 
tion until by the construction of roads and bridges land 
carriage superseded water transit; and when the dyking of 
the marshes annexed his insular home to the mainland, 
the banished islander divided his time between his friends 
at Christine and those on Chester creek. But the poor 
man sadly pined over the change, and ere long a green 
mound in the old church-yard marked the spot where sor- 
rowing neighbors often recalled the humble goodness of 
their lost friend. There Okowela yearly met Ebba and 
Halvor with dame Signild’s household, all bringing gar- 


596 


Ebb a Borjcson. 


lands of spring flowers as a birthday tribute to the cher- 
ished memory of beloved Uncle Gabe. 

After this loss the young chief felt a deepening loneli- 
ness. He was repeatedly urged to marry the daughter of 
a neighboring chieftain as a matter of tribal policy, but 
with Ebba as his fixed mo^el of womanly perfection, he 
spurned the thought of taking an Indian wife: and so lived 
on till the westward movement of his people added the 
sense of a declining race to the sadness of personal iso- 
lation, when he joined his departed kindred. 

Caleb Pusey’s duties became the more engrossing with 
the growth of the new province. With all his various pur- 
suits as miller, sheriff, judge, legislator, preacher, coun- 
cillor and essayist, he aided in the peaceful removal of the 
tribe of Okehocking Indians, and served as one of the 
commissioners to run the northern boundary of Delaware. 
With the latter task came some kindly associations: for 
the notable line circling at its twelve miles radius from cen- 
tral New Castle, was found to skirt that Indian village in a 
bend of the Brandywine, which was the scene of the peace- 
making errand of the Quaker party caused by the reported 
outbreak of savages some years before. After a busy 
career in the river settlements. Friend Pusey removed to 
Marlborough, Chester county, then the “far west,” where 
he died at an advanced and honored age. 

Arvid Borjeson continued among the town-building 
Quakers until a warmer urgency impelled an early voyage 
to Sweden, from which he returned with the Countess B. 
as his wife. The happy pair moreover brought tidings of 
similar happenings among old Swedish friends. For Mons 
A., the merry scoffer at matrimony, had wedded the lady 
Iduna, and the gustatory Nils K. had succumbed to the 
elder Backstrom, who had reached his unwary heart by 
deftly catering to the calls of his stomach. 

On the same ship with the returning Arvid and his bride 
embarked Olaf and the now aged Varg from the old home- 
stead. It was all intended as a glad surprise to the friends 
at Christeen; but there was a shadow upon the joyous re- 
union at that place when it was told how the faithful dog, 
unable to endure severance from the old home, had pined 
away during the voyage and died as they reached the 
capes of the Delaware. . 























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